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Often in winter the end of the day is like the final metaphor in a poem celebrating death: there is no way out.
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If happiness always depends on something expected in the future, we are chasing a will-o'-the-wisp that ever eludes our grasp, until the future, and ourselves, vanish into the abyss of death.
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Toby Zeigler: There's literally no one in the world I don't hate right now.
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I really hate it when I can’t score runs from a ball.
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I really wished he hadn't made me hate to read the Bible. Having it shoved down my throat all my life had made me bitter toward reading it. I believed it, but my dad had used it to his benefit too many times and ignored the parts in there that would point out his wrongs. Like judging Beau without even knowing him. That was in the Bible too.
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Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.
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I hate to complain...No one is without difficulties, whether in high or low life, and every person knows best where their own shoe pinches.
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We may not preach a crucified Saviour without being also crucified men and women. It is not enough to wear an ornamental cross as a pretty decoration. The cross that Paul speaks about was burned into his very flesh, was branded into his being, and only the Holy Spirit can burn the true cross into our innermost life.
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This is our high calling, to represent Christ, and act in His behalf, and in His character and spirit, under all circumstances and toward all men.
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Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good.
