Sad people dislike the happy, and the happy the sad; the quick thinking the sedate, and the careless the busy and industrious.
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How long your closet held a whiff of you, Long after hangers hung austere and bare. I would walk in and suddenly the true. Sharp sweet sweat scent controlled the air. And life was in that small still living breath. Where are you? since so much of you is here, Your unique odour quite ignoring death. My hands reach out to touch, to hold what's dear. And vital in my longing empty arms. But other clothes fill up the space, your space, And scent on scent send out strange false alarms. Not of your...
Madeleine L'Engle
One of these days lightning is going to fill the sky from therising of the sun to its setting, and there is going to appear in theclouds one like a son of man with his mighty angels in flamingfire. And we will see him clearly. And whether from terror orsheer excitement, we will tremble and we will wonder how, howwe ever lived so long with such a domesticated, harmless Christ.
John Piper