Long, I am woman who speaks but one language, the language of the fall--discontentment and self-condemnation, the critical eye and the never satisfied.

...the secret to joy is to keep seeking God where we doubt He is.

A life contemplating the blessings of Christ becomes a life acting the love of Christ.

Joy is the realest reality, the fullest life, and joy is always given, never grasped. God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy.

Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant—a seed—this plants the giant miracle.

Our fall was, has always been, and always will be, that we aren’t satisfied in God and what He gives. We hunger for something more, something other.

Simplicity is ultimately a matter of focus.

Eucharisteo—thanksgiving—always precedes the miracle.

Thanksgiving-giving thanks in everything-prepares the way that God might show us His fullest salvation in Christ.

Sometimes you don’t know when you’re taking the first step through a door until you’re already inside.

Satan prowls but he’s a lion on a leash

The smallest act of compassion can save a soul, perhaps your own.

All my serving utensils are measured. It's not obvious, because they're really beautiful, but I have the option of tracking what I'm eating. That helps me be smart about it.

Then in came this script with another very low offer, and another drug addict and a depressing and difficult part to play. I thought, 'Why should I put myself through that for hardly any money?'

My first priority is to my wife, as hers is to me, and to our child.

Instead of boiling up individuals into the species, I would draw a chalk circle round every individuality, and preach to it to keep within that, and preserve and cultivate its identity.

The songs are inspired by my experiences. Sometimes they are more than my real-life and, conversely, my life is more than just my songs.

All I want to do is to go to America, get married and start a new life.

In France a lot of songs were ruined by their associations with commercials. But so far no Apple commercial has ruined a song for me.

Maybe what I admired most about John Steinbeck is that he never mortgaged his 45-acre heart for a suite in an ivory tower.

The writer has three sources: imagination, observation, and experience