“Pencil in your plans but write your visions in ink.”

We’re so absorbed in the effort to get rich, we no longer recognize when we are rich.

You can’t influence people you refuse to associate with.

Your friends will determine the quality and direction of your life.

Everything now will prepare you for the next step. Don’t run from adversity; lean into it with all your heart and God will make you a leader worth following.

One of the exciting things about being a believer is watching God unveil His plan for our lives.

There is something insincere about a man or woman who repeatedly tells God how much he or she loves Him while refusing to obey Him.

My high school science teacher once told me that much of Genesis is false. But since my high school teacher did not prove he was God by rising from the dead, I’m going to believe Jesus instead.

In the shadow of my hurt, forgiveness feel like a decision to reward my enemy. But in the shadow of the cross, forgiveness is merely a gift from one undeserving soul to another.

There is an appropriate way to use your story, not as an excuse but as a testimony to God’s ability to free you from the past.

Your greatest accomplishment may not be something you do but someone you raise.

Dreamers dream about things being different. Visionaries envision themselves making a difference.

Lord, give me the wisdom to know what’s right and the courage to do what’s right-even when it’s hard.

Next generation leaders are those who would rather challenge what needs to change and pay the price than remain silent and die on the inside.

The Church must stop expecting outsiders to act like insiders while insiders act like outsiders.

Leaders who refuse to listen, will eventually be surrounded by people who have nothing helpful to say.

What could be and should be can’t be until God is ready for it to be.

The girl with the heart of gold, bled for you in ink.

A recluse without books and ink is already in life a dead man.

There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.

And an equation is the same whether it’s written in red or green ink.

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane.

The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.

Her veins are filled with the ink that writes onto the paper of her life and canvas.

My ink-soaked heart could write your name across the sky a thousand times more than the stars that decorate the velvet night.