“It's no secret that there is an epidemic of chronic illness in this country, and more and more Americans are turning to complementary medicine for relief. Patients deserve a therapeutic environment they can trust. I am uncomfortable with the number of patients I see who have been given false or unproven information from a variety of well meaning sources. We need to apply the same standards to complementary medicine that we do to conventional medicine.”
“I go out there, I focus, I make sure that I know my assignments, make sure Coach Martz and the other coaches can trust me, make sure I play my butt off, and basically make it where they have to keep me, ... I want to make myself play well enough that they have to say, 'Hey, we have to keep this guy.'”
Travel is rebellion in its purest form. - we follow our heart- we free ourselves of labels- we lose control willingly- we trade a role for reality- we love the unfamiliar- we trust strangers- we own only what we can carry- we search for better questions, not answers- we truly graduate- we, sometimes, choose never to come back.
I own my past, it hasn't been grande' But it's had some pretty great moments. I own my movements of now, it isn't what I've dreamt, but I'm closer than I was before.I own my future, it is going to test me, But I trust I have the strength to pull through. Life isn't what happens to us, but what we choose to become.
I began keeping diaries after they locked Rosemary up at Butler and I went to live with Aunt Elaine in Cranston until I was eighteen, but even the diaries can't be trusted. For instance, there's a series of entries describing a trip to New Brunswick that I'm pretty sure I never took. It used to scare me, those recollections of things that never took place, but I've gotten used to it.
The corner of his mouth pulled up into a crooked, boyish grin that melted the heart I was so desperate to protect. “You don’t have a monopoly on fear. Until we kick Nero’s asses out of Reno—and trust me, I have every intention of doing that—you’re a target. If anything happened to you…” He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “Can’t even think about it.
It's a shame, when I'm at the checkout line, and the cashier holds up my bill to the light, in search for a ghost president, or slashing a yellow marker to see if counterfeit. Even in money we can't be trusted. Makes we wonder whats next, will the government make a marker to slash our hand, or an x-ray we will have to walk through, to check if we have a dishonest heart or corrupt spirit?
Fate, they say, fate- the clay that molds the events of your life, and it was the same fate that had thrown the stone of her heart on the building of his expectations. But then wasn't it his fault that he had constructed the building of glass? Hadn't he failed to cement the bricks of his love with trust and colour them with security? There was no insurance for broken hearts, no ointment for wounded souls and there would never be one, he knew.
Dear heart,” he murmured, “do not look on me with those dear, scared eyes of yours. If there is aught that puzzles you in what I said, try and trust me a little longer. Remember, I must save the Dauphin at all costs; mine honor is bound with his safety. What happens to me after that matters but little, yet I wish to live for your dear sake.
If economic catastrophe does come, will it be a time that draws Christians together to share every resource we have, or will it drive us apart to hide in our own basements or mountain retreats, guarding at gunpoint our private stores from others? If we faithfully use our assets for his kingdom now, rather than hoarding them, can't we trust our faithful God to provide for us then?