Being our own god grants us the terrifying illusion that we possess sufficient power to bring the world around us to its knees, when in fact it will only serve to bring us to our grave. And sadly, the cemeteries seem quite full these days.

Romanticizing comes with colored glasses of the most colored sort.

I see everything outside of me through the lens of everything that is inside of me. Therefore, before I look at the world outside I’d be wise to look at the lens inside.

It is not the chains of some tyrant that robs us of freedom. Rather, it is the staleness of our attitude.

Denial is a seductive ruse of our own making, force-fitting our agendas by forcing out truth all because we bent to fear rather than bowed to God.

Too often fear is fiction madly running amuck, all the while madly tracking ‘muck’ across the floor of fact.

The best I can do is to ‘pretend’ that I’m my own god. But in the pretending I have to pretend that I’m not pretending, and somehow that doesn’t sound very god-like to me.

I am likely to fail if I have determined the cost as too high or my intelligence as too low. Yet, if I think about it, the real failure rests in believing either of these to be true.

It is in opposing the world’s lies that we impose truth in our hearts.