Marc P. Robinson

You are a constant. Forever in my mind; forever in my heart. It seems that most matter how much I try I can’t get rid of you. You are a thorn, stuck in deep; painful to remove, and even when I do, still I’ll bleed and feel the soreness. It will take time, but it will heal. No matter the pain, I will still dare to pick roses.

It’s not the adversity, but how you face it.

My love for you was like a poem I wrote; one that I disregarded as average. Torn out, thrown away to the rubbish heap, waiting; wishing to be picked up and appreciated by someone else, for the masterpiece that it is.

Ahh, that mountain of self-discovery. Every time you have reached the summit, the clouds clear and you see there is still a ways to go. Don’t look up with thoughts of despair; thinking how much further do I have to go?! Take a moment and look back to see how far you have come. Don’t lose sight of your accomplishments, and focus on the continued commitment to self-discovery and development.

I look up at the universe and ask, ‘What are you trying to teach me here?’ I know I won’t hear a reply, but asking the question, makes me begin looking for the answer.

They say that history repeats itself, so if you don’t learn from the past you will make the same mistakes. So I have become an archaeologist of my own history. Digging up what has long since been buried, exhuming those forgotten fragments. Trying to distinguish what is real from folklore, trying to gain understanding, rather than relying on myths.

Our thinking and our behaviour are always in anticipation of a response. It is therefore fear-based.

To be furious in religion is to be irreligiously religious.

Few people have any next, they live from hand to mouth without a plan, and are always at the end of their line.

God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.

Why level downward to our dullest perception always, and praise that as common sense? The commonest sense is the sense of men asleep, which they express by snoring.

To be candid, in Middlemarch phraseology, meant, to use an early opportunity of letting your friends know that you did not take a cheerful view of their capacity, their conduct, or their position; and a robust candor never waited to be asked for its opinion.

How can one be well…when one suffers morally?

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.

I cannot tell you any spiritual truth that you don’t know already. All I can do is remind you of what you have forgotten.

Let us eat and drink neither forgetting death unduly nor remembering it. The Lord hath mercy on whom he will have mercy, etc., and the less we think about it the better.

One can resist the invasion of an army, but one cannot resist the invasion of ideas.

No question is so difficult to answer as that which the answer is obvious.

It is better to live rich than to die rich.

No man acquires property without acquiring with it a little arithmetic also.

Wisdom is better than silver and gold. I was hopeless, now I’m on hope road.