A bit of trash now and then is good for the severest reader. It provides the necessary roughage in the literary diet.
Of one thing I am certain, the body is not the measure of healing, peace is the measure.
Those wearing Tolerance for a label call other views intolerable.
The wonderful thing about saints is that they were human. They lost their tempers, got hungry, scolded God, were egotistical or impatient in their turns, made mistakes and regretted them. Still they went on doggedly blundering toward heaven.
This is the gist of what I know: Give advice and buy a foe.
Stir the eggnog, lift the toddy, Happy New Year everybody.
Words can sting like anything, but silence breaks the heart.