On Wings of Devotion

She gave so freely. Out of her plenty, yes - but not just that. She gave of her heart, of her soul. She gave in her loneliness and she gave in her friendships and she gave in her hurt and her pain.

None of us can change anyone else - not unless they want to do it themselves. " But the Lord could.

You'll either be a villain or a hero, Phil. Try to pick the right one, will you?

What do you think heroism is but doing what needs to be done when the situation tries to prevent it?

Whatever He asks of us, whether it be a fortune or a pittance or our time or our devotion, we can be sure it will be painful. Cutting out what stands between us and God always is. But we can also trust that in the giving, we'll gain something far more precious.

Do you ever have any fun?" "Loads of it. Just not the sort that lands me in trouble." "We seem to have different definitions of fun.

Asking for favors puts me in a foul temper." "Everything puts you in a foul temper." "That is blatantly untrue. Pretty girls put me in a lovely frame of mind.

He blocked her. You'll not dissuade me, Arabelle. I've made up my mind, so just resign yourself to an escort. I don't need a... a guard dog! She moved to sidestep him in the other direction and, as soon as she shifted to compensate, darted around him on the first. He was at her side within a step. Woof.

We cannot defeat circumstances with circumstances. When an unforeseen event has crushed us, another cannot make it better.

[...] being a gentleman by birth certainly did not make one worthy of the name. Indeed, far too often it seemed to make one the opposite, by promising a man insulation from the consequences of sin.

This war was destroying her entire generation. Those it hadn't wiped out entirely it was trying to take apart piece by piece. And what could she do? Try to stitch the physical gashes back together, but that was only a stopgap.

Lord God . . . this is a bad idea. She wasn’t weak, not like Camden had said she was. But she wasn't strong either. Not when it came to him.

He does not ask everyone to give all they have. But if He does, are we willing?

Arabelle Denler was... all sorts of impossible things. Too generous. Too good. Too innocent. She made him infinitely aware of all he lacked.

He needed to help. Someone, somehow. He needed to prove, if only in some small way, that he was worthwhile.

He does always say that sound planning is the backbone of spontaneity.

Stop.” His hands framed her face, anchoring her, refusing to let her look away. His eyes blazed. “Don’t believe those lies, Arabelle. Not for a second. You are everything. Everything. Everything good, everything bright. Everything worthwhile.

You seem to define yourself quite a lot by what you are not.

Strike a little terror into him, Phillip. It would do him good.

Strike some terror into him, Phillip. It would do him some good.

But Arabelle refused to be sad about it. She wouldn’t count it as loss, just as opportunity for God to show her something new.

sound planning is the backbone of spontaneity.

My love. We’re all dead. All our days are numbered. That’s the beauty of what Christ did for us—dying so that we could finally taste real life. Pouring Himself out so that we could be filled.

You’ll either be a hero or a villain, Phil . Try to pick the right one, will you?