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People say you're born innocent, but it's not true. You inherit all kinds of things that you can do nothing about. You inherit your identity, your history, like a birthmark that you can't wash off. ... We are born with our heads turned back, but my mother says we have to face into the future now. You have to earn your own innocence, she says. You have to grow up and become innocent. ↗
YOU CAN RUN, BUT CAN NOT HIDE "The statement, 'after giving it much thought', hardly becomes credible when one spends less that 24 hours in that endeavor. In fact, it is really giving something very little thought at all. In that case it becomes an issue of denial. And also, those who proclaim Christ as Lord and God as Abba, who run to Them to hide from the very issues in their lives that They desire to deal with and remove, always amaze me. We as Christians should run to God with the hope that He will reveal to us that which He intently desires to deliver us from". [Just Keeping It Real] ↗
You think this is going to work? This peaceful summit thing?” “Sure,” I said. After a second, I added, “Probably.” “Probably?” “Maybe,” I said. “We’re down to maybe now?” I shrugged. “We’ll see. ↗
Holy shit," I breathed. "Hellhounds." "Harry," Michael said sternly. "You know I hate it when you swear." "You're right. Sorry. Holy shit," I breathed, "heckhounds. ↗
I know how you feel," I said. "You run into something you totally don't get, and it's scary as hell. But once you learn something about it, it gets easier to handle. Knowledge counters fear. It always has. ↗
Right,' Thomas said. 'Where are we headed?' 'To where they treat me like royalty,' I said. 'We're going to Burger King?' I rubbed the heel of my hand against my forehead and spelled fratricide in a subvocal mutter, but I had to spell out temporary insanity and justifiable homicide, too, before I calmed down enough to speak politely. 'Just take a left and drive. Please.' 'Well,' Thomas said, grinning, 'since you said 'please' - Thomas Raith & Harry Dresden, Small Favor, Jim Butcher ↗
Let's get something clear up front. I'm not Harry Dresden. Harry's a wizard. A genuine, honest-to-goodness wizard. He's Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull, with a big leather coat and a .44 revolver in his pocket. He'll spit in the eye of gods and demons alike if he thinks it needs to be done, and to hell with the consequences -- and yet somehow my little brother manages to remain a decent human being. I'll be damned if I know how. But then, I'll be damned regardless. My name is Thomas Raith, and I'm a monster. ↗
There's always, always a choice. My options might really, truly suck, but that doesn't mean there isn't a choice. ↗
