My great-grandfather fought in the Civil War. And such was the carnage that he never spoke of it right up to his dying day. Therefore, we might consider that it was the sacrifices that he witnessed, and the pain of comrades lost that he carried to his own grave that are but a tiny part of the inestimable price paid for the liberties that we abuse.

If a grave is empty, is it a grave? I wonder how Jesus would answer that.

I spend a tremendous amount of time carefully choosing the roles I wish to play so that I can run from the role I was born to play. And if I keep on doing that, I will eventually set foot in my grave never having set foot on the stage.

Entitlement is the shovel that digs a grave of greed. And there are those of us who stand at the bottom of such a grave having thrown out the last shovel full of dirt, never realizing that the grave that we’ve dug is our own until the same shovel suddenly starts backfilling the hole.

At the very point that I’ve taken something for granted, I have at that same moment taken it to its grave. And if I look around, I realize I’ve cultivated quite a cemetery.

Our egos will be the death of us unless we commit to the death of our egos. In that sense, taking something to its grave is what saves us from one.