Worrying about next, tomorrow cripples our ability to think, act and exercise faith in the present and the present only is ours.

A happy man is too satisfied with the present to dwell too much on the future.

Henceforth I flie not Death, nor would prolong   Life much, bent rather how I may be quit   Fairest and easiest of this combrous charge,   Which I must keep till my appointed day   Of rendring up. MICHAEL to him repli'd.     Nor love thy Life, nor hate; but what thou livst   Live well, how long or short permit to Heav'n:

We can easily manage if we will only take, each day, the burden appointed to it. But the load will be too heavy for us if we carry yesterday's burden over again today, and then add the burden of the morrow before we are required to bear it.

I did, however, remember a line from a book by Dallas Willard that I had read just recently: "At the beginning of each morning I commit my day to the Lord's care. . . . I have already placed God in charge. I no longer have to manage the weather, airplanes, and other people.

Not knowing doesn't mandate anxiety; rather, it instills confidence, and confidence is crucial to good performance.

Not knowing doesn't mean you're condemned to anxiety; rather, not knowing calls for trust, and trust is crucial to good performance. Uncertainty is essential to the game.

Welcome to the human race. It is somehow essential to human life as God has ordained it that we can know the final score of yesterday but not tomorrow. It doesn't mean we're condemned to anxiety. It does mean this: If you're looking for certainty, you've chosen the wrong species. You can walk by faith, but not by sight; not down here.

He tries to picture how it will end, with an empty baseball field, a dark factory, and then over a brook in a dirt road, he doesn't know. He pictures a huge vacant field of cinders and his heart goes hollow.

This life is the one to be lived now, that much is crystal-clear. What did Thoreau supposedly say—'One world at a time'?

Was she asleep? He groped beside the bed, among his underclothes, for his wristwatch. He would soon learn, in undressing, to leave it lying discreetly visible. Its silent gold-rimmed face, a tiny banker's face, stated that he had already been out to lunch an hour and forty minutes. A sour burning began to revolve in his stomach.

The reel of your real life unwound only once.