There are but two sorts of peace: there is the world's peace, which is an opiate that stills the conscience for a season — peace, peace, but no peace; and there is the Christian's peace — the peace that passeth understanding.
[I]t seemed strange to be engaged to so charming a girl and yet go through with it as if it were simply a social duty. If one had n't been in love with her at first, one ought to have been at the end of a week or two. If Ambrose Tester was not (and to me he did n't pretend to be), he carried it off, as I have said, better than I should have expected. He was a gentleman, and he behaved like a gentleman, with the added punctilio, I think, of being sorry for his betrothed.
God is pulling me up and up and away from this shithole of a life, and as I get pulled up through the water I think, Mum and Dad, I'll miss you.
The night no stars besparkle the sky ...
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