Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Jared Brock

Quote by Jared Brock

Work

A Year of Living Prayerfully

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Jared Brock

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Jared Brock. more

You May Also Like

“Kumwamini Mwenyezi Mungu wakati wa raha ni rahisi kuliko kumwamini Mwenyezi Mungu wakati wa shida, na utahitaji imani kuendelea kumwamini wakati wa dhiki. Vipindi vigumu katika maisha yetu hutokea kwa kila mmoja wetu. Kuamini ya kwamba Mungu ana makusudi ya lazima kukuondolea vikwazo katika maisha yako ni vigumu sana wakati mwingine, lakini imani ndicho kitu cha muhimu zaidi unachotakiwa kuwa nacho katika kipindi hiki ambacho dunia imekata tamaa. Amani ya Mungu, ambayo huzidi hekima na maarifa yote ya kibinadamu, ni kuliamini neno la Mungu kwamba ni la kweli. Bila imani hutaweza kumfurahisha Mungu. Imani ni ufunguo wa nguvu, uwezo na neema ambavyo Mungu ametupangia. Kwa ufupi, Mungu ni mkubwa kuliko wewe na matatizo yako.”

“Kwa mfano, uko kwenye mashindano ya mbio za mita 100. Utakapofika kwenye kamba, mwisho wa hizo mita 100, utakuwa umechoka sana. Lakini kocha anakuhimiza uendelee mbele mita nyingine 50! Unaweza kufika ukiwa mzima au unaweza kufika ukiwa umezimia. Lakini usijali. Ukiendelea mita nyingine 50 utakuwa umetumia uwezo wako wote uliopewa na Mwenyezi Mungu. Ukitumia kanuni hiyo katika maisha yako ya kawaida utaweza kufanikiwa.”

“Coffeehouses were centers of self-education, literary and philosophical speculation, commercial innovation, and, in some cases, political fermentation. But above all they were clearinghouses for news and gossip, linked by the circulation of customers, publications, and information from one establishment to the next. Collectively, Europe's coffeehouses functioned as the Internet of the Age of Reason.”

“The stale air, the incessant, inane clatter of the billiard balls, the perpetual hacking cough of a half-blind journalist opposite me, the spindle-shanked infantry officer, alternately picking his nose or combing his moustache with nicotine-stained fingers in front of a small pocket-mirror, the seething clump of vile, sweaty, gabbling Italians round the card table in the corner, now rapping their knuckles and squawking as they played their trumps, now hawking up a lump of phlegm and spewing it onto the floor: all that was bad enough, but to see it reflected two, three times over in the mirrors on the walls! It slowly sucked the blood out of my veins.”