“No time is so well spent in every day as that which we spend upon our knees.”

There are eternal consequences resulting from all our thoughts, words and actions, of which we take far too little account.

If you want to find out how much someone loves you, find out how much they pray for you.

We must read our Bibles like men digging for hidden treasure.

Whatever you read, read the Bible first. Beware of bad books: there are plenty in this day. Take heed what you read.

A Christian is a walking sermon. They preach far more than a minister does, for they preach all week long.

The fear of punishment, the desire of reward, the sense of duty, are all useful arguments, in their way, to persuade people to holiness. But they are all weak and powerless, until a person loves Christ.

God does not look at riches, titles, education, or beauty. There is only one thing that God does look at, and that is the soul.

Our prayers may be weak, stammering, and poor in our eyes. But if they come from a right heart, God understands them. Such prayers are His delight.

Unity without the gospel is a worthless unity; it is the very unity of hell.

Love should be the silver thread that runs through all your conduct.

There is only one door, one bridge, one ladder, between earth and heaven – the crucified Son of God.

We can never make too much of Christ. He is worthy of all the honor that we can give Him.

The Word of God is ROCK. All else is sand.

The world’s idea of greatness is to rule, but Christian greatness consists in serving.

Take away the cross of Christ, and the Bible is a dark book.

Let us beware of repentance without evidence.

And then you walk into a room one day, whether it’s at university or an office or some kind of club, and you just go, ‘Ah. There they are.’ And suddenly you feel at home.

I play the piano passionately and inaccurately. Indeed, I worked out the other day that of my seventy-five years; I have spent at least one year sitting on a piano stool.

Curse us eh/I’ll make you pay!/I don’t want to rhyme all day!

Colombia is not how people think it is. We used to eat fish every Sunday at the beach. In the town where I grew up, people did not tell lies.

Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else, subtly altering the way she moves through the day. But today, the Anniversary of the day he died, is a day when all bets are off.

At every hour of every day, I can tell you on which page of which book each school child in Italy is studying.

It was a weird mix of emotions. One day, your best friend could be killed. The day before, you could be celebrating him getting a brand-new bike.

The city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.