I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled And made me in these Christian days A happy Christian child.

Self-denial is painful for a moment but very agreeable in the end.

Who ran to help me when I fell And would some pretty story tell Or kiss the place to make it well? My mother.

The Good News of the gospel of salvation must be declared to all nations.

But Quinn held the fuzzy handcuffs in his hands, looking them over closely, and he smiled. “Oh, hey, did you want to keep these for when your invisible boyfriend returns from his fake vacation?

Are you sure you weren't adopted?""Mom would like to think so, but it was a natural birth, so her memory's real clear.

Peole do think that if they avoid the truth it might change to something better before they have to hear it.

It's purely and simply the unfair media.They want the story to stay alive as long as possible.

Hope is a thing with feathers

No one can tell time except approximately, time never stands still to be named.

Your ethical muscle grows stronger every time you choose right over wrong.

Now I want to become an artist, rather than one thing, like a dancer, or a movie star, or a choreographer.

I want to be accessible to a certain type of person who wants to walk around with their eyes open, or at least is open to the idea of change.