Greatness is born of ordinary men who decided to work extraordinarily hard.

There is more good in you than ‘anything else.’ And if you don’t see that, it’s because you’re seeing ‘everything else.

We want greatness, but we prefer it tamed and on a leash short enough for us to control it, yet long enough to allow it to retain some remote yet diminished flavor of greatness.

To seek the praise of men as our motivation is to abandon truly great things, for more often than not truly great things elicit the ire of men far more than they garner their praises.

Things that are truly great need nothing from me, and to somehow think that they do speaks to my utter lack of greatness.

There is always some sort of call rolling in from distant horizons, heralding something afoot. And these calls are not the things of culture or podiums or platforms, for the calls of distant horizons are far too grand to be held captive to such menial things. Rather, they are the calls of God and life and things majestic beyond imagination.

I think that the greatest people of all are not those who have achieved great things, but those who appreciate great things whether they achieve them or not.

The greatest people are ‘great’ because they’re willing to admit their greatest faults.

True greatness does not flaunt itself in long displays. Rather, it comes in the briefest moments to quickly appear and then submerge itself to shape the tides of time from deep places.