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Quote by Carolyn Custis James

“This is a moment for believers to embody a gospel culture where both halves of the church are thriving because following Jesus produces a climate of honor, value, and love and we are serving God together as he intended from the beginning. This is a golden opportunity to restore to women the indestructible and elevated identity that they have inherited as God's daughters and that a fallen world has stolen from them.”

Quote by Carolyn Custis James

Work

Half the Church: Recapturing God's Global Vision for Women

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Author

Carolyn Custis James
Carolyn Custis James

Carolyn Custis James is a renowned author born in 1948. Her works primarily focus on women, family, and faith, and are highly praised for their profound insights and unique perspectives. more

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“Maybe that's a haiku, maybe not, it might be a little too complicated," said Japhy. "A real haiku's gotta be as simple as porridge and yet make you see the real thing, like the greatest haiku of them all probably is the one that goes 'The sparrow hops along the veranda, with wet feet.' By Shiki. You see the wet footprints like a vision in your mind and yet in those few words you also see all the rain that's been falling that day and almost smell the wet pine needles." (The Dharma Bums, Chap. 8)”

“Jack Crawford heard the rhythm and syntax of his own speech in Graham’s voice. He had heard Graham do that before, with other people. Often in intense conversation Graham took on the other person’s speech patterns. At first, Crawford had thought he was doing it deliberately, that it was a gimmick to get the back-and-forth rhythm going. Later Crawford realized that Graham did it involuntarily, that sometimes he tried to stop and couldn’t.”

“I'm getting you out of here.' A knot formed in my throat. 'I can stop this. They won't harm me. I can go-' 'They cannot have you, Poppy. I know what they will do to you.' His bloody fingers splayed across my cheek. 'I cannot breathe when I think about that. I'm getting you out of here.' A knot formed in my throat. 'What about the others? Naill? Delano? Von-' 'They will take care of themselves,' he swore. 'I need to get you out of here. 'That is all that matters right now.”

“This wasn't in the histories", Raistlin murmured to himself, staring down at the little wretched bodies, his brow furrowed. His eyes flashed. "Perhaps", he breathed, "this means time has already been altered?" For long moments he sat there, pondering. Then suddenly he understood. None saw Raistlin's face, hidden as it was by his hood, or they would have noted a swift, sudden spasm of sorrow and anger pass across it. "No," he said to himself bitterly, "the pitiful sacrifice of these poor creatures was left out of the histories not because it did not happen. It was left out simply because-" He paused, staring grimly down at the small, broken bodies. "No one cared...”

“Remove your hands, brother!" Raistlin said in a flat, soft whisper. "I'll see you in the Abyss!" "I said remove your hands!" There was a flash of blue light, a crackle and sizzling sound, Caramon screamed in pain, loosening his hold as jarring, paralyzing shock surged through his body. "I warned you," Raistlin straightened his robes and resumed his seat. "By the gods, I will kill you this time!" Caramon said through clenched teeth, drawing his sword with trembling hand. "Then do so," Raistlin snapped, looking up from the spellbook he had reopened, "and get it over with. This constant threatening becomes boring!”

“Shuddering Tanis stepped back. Raistlin gave the drawstring on the top of the bag a quick jerk, snapping it shut. Then, glancing at them distrustfully, he slipped the bag within his robes, secreting it in one of his numerous hidden pockets, and begun to turn away. But Tanis stopped him. "Things can never again be the same between us, can they?" the half-elf asked quietly. Raistlin looked at him for a moment, and Tanis saw a brief flicker of regret in the young mage's eyes, a longing for trust and friendship and return to the days of youth. "No," Raistilin whispered. "But such was the price I paid.”

“"Turn my back on the world..." the historian repeated softly and slowly, his head moving to face the mage. "Turn my back on the world!" Emotion rarely marred the surface of Astinus's cold voice, but now anger struck the placid calm of his soul like a rock hurled into still water. "I? Turn my back on the world?" Astinus's voice rolled around the library as the thunder had rolled previously. "I am the world, as you well know, old friend! Countless times I have been born! Countless deaths I have died! Every tear shed - mine have flowed! Every drop of blood spilled - mine has drained! Every agony, every joy ever felt has been mine to share! "I sit with my hand on the Sphere of Time, the sphere you made for me, old friend, and I travel the length and breadth of this world chronicling its history. I have committed the blackest deeds! I have made the noblest sacrifices. I am human, elf, and ogre. I am male and female. I have borne children. I have murdered children. I saw you as you were. I see you as you are. If I seem cold and unfeeling, it is because that is how I survive without losing my sanity! My passion goes into my words.”

“Raistlin lay on the floor, his skin white, his breathing shallow. Blood trickled from his mouth. Kneeling down, Caramon lifted him in his arms. "Raistlin?" he whispered. "What happened?" "That's what happened," Tanis said grimly, pointing. Caramon glanced up, his gaze coming to rest on the dragon orb - now grown to the size Caramon had seen in Silvanesti. It stood on the stand Raistlin had made for it. Caramon sucked in his breath in horror. Terrible visions of Lorac flooded his mind. Lorac insane, dying... "Raist!" he moaned, clutching his brother tightly. Raistlin's head moved feebly. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened his mouth. "What?" Caramon bent low, his brother's breath cold upon his skin. "What?" "Mine..." Raistlin whispered. "Spells...of the ancients...mine...Mine..." The mage's head lolled, his words died. But his face was calm, placid, relaxed. His breathing grew regular.”