Come Hither, My Dear. Come Hither, That

To Love In Any Way Is To Be Like A Child—it Means To Be Vulnerable, To Be Wide-eyed, To Be Selfless. There Is No Such Thing As Free Love; Love Is The Most Costly Expression In The World. To Love Romantically Is To Give Of Oneself Fully And Completely, A Merging And Meshing Of Souls So That The Twain Become A Unity. It Is To Allow The Sense Of Wonder To Fully Enrapture.

There Is A Fountain Filled With Blood Drawn From Immanuel's Veins. And Those Plunged Beneath That Watery Grave To Drink Of His Blood Will Never Be The Same.

If Slater Were Someone Else, Kevin Would Merely Be The Poor Victim Of A Horrible Plot. Unless He Was Killed By Slater, In Which Case He Would Be The Dead Victim Of A Horrible Plot

. . . Your History Is No Less Important To Your Survival Than Your Ability To Breathe. In The End, You Can Only Determine Whether To Saturate Your Memories With Pain Or With Perspective. Forgetting Is Not An Option. I Tell You The Truth Now: Pain Was Not God's Plan For This Life. It Is A Reality, But It Is Not A Part Of The Plan.

The World’s Bumper Sticker Reads: Life Sucks, And Then You Die. Perhaps Christian Bumper Stickers Should Read: Life Sucks, But Then You Find Hope And You Can’t Wait To Die.