When Death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world, and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes. In the Destroyer's steps there spring up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to Heaven.

I have been able to raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might have hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by Heaven.

I verily believe that her not remembering and not minding in the least, made me cry again, inwardly - and that is the sharpest crying of all

Heavens knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.

I was such a sullen, angry, sad kid. I'm sure there are writers who have had happy childhoods, but what are you going to write about? No ghosts, no fear. I'm very happy that I had an unhappy and uncomfortable childhood.

As I see with Lori's testimony, you say what good could come out of all these abortions and all what she's been through? But she has been a part of a new Bible for women, a mentoring Bible.

Only the man who has had to face despair is really convinced that he needs mercy. Those who do not want mercy never seek it. It is better to find God on the threshold of despair than to risk our lives in a complacency that has never felt the need of forgiveness. A life that is without problems may literally be more hopeless than one that always verges on despair.

The point is that our body's core regulatory systems can be altered by traumatic experiences. A child exposed to unpredictable or extreme stress will become what we call dysregulated.

The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one's heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one's heart to stone.

How else but through a broken heart may Lord Christ enter in?

Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground.

sorrow...is a wound that bleeds when any hand but that of love touches it