“Preaching the gospel to myself each day mounts a powerful assault against my pride and serves to establish humility in its place. Nothing suffocates my pride more than daily reminders regarding the glory of my God, the gravity of my sins, and the crucifixion of God’s own Son in my place. Also, the gracious love of God, lavished on me because of Christ’s death, is always humbling to remember, especially when viewed against the backdrop of the Hell I deserve.”

“On the most basic levels, I desire fullness, and fleshly lusts seduce me by attaching themselves to this basic desire. They exploit the empty spaces in me, and they promise that fulness will be mine if I give in to their demands. When my soul sits empty and is aching for something to fill it, such deceptive promises are extremely difficult to resist.Consequently, the key to mortifying fleshly lusts is to eliminate the emptiness within me and replace it with fullness; and I accomplish this by feasting on the gospel. Indeed, it is in the gospel that I experience a God who glorifies Himself by filling me with His fullness. . . . This is the God of the gospel, a God who is satisfied with nothing less than my experience of fullness in Him! . . .Indeed, as I perpetually feast on Christ and all His blessings found in the gospel, I find that my hunger for sin diminishes and the lies of lust simply lose their appeal. Hence, to the degree that I am full, I am free. Eyes do not rove, nor do fleshly lusts rule, when the heart is fat with the love of Jesus!”

“When I consider how my light is spentEre half my days in this dark world and wide,And that one talent which is death to hideLodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bentTo serve therewith my Maker, and presentMy true account, lest he returning chide,"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"I fondly ask. But Patience, to preventThat murmur, soon replies: "God doth not needEither man's work or his own gifts: who bestBear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His stateIs kingly; thousands at his bidding speedAnd post o'er land and ocean without rest:They also serve who only stand and wait.”

“How can I live without thee, how forego Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined, To live again in these wild woods forlorn?Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no, no, I feel The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy stateMine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.However, I with thee have fixed my lot, Certain to undergo like doom; if death Consort with thee, death is to me as life; So forcible within my heart I feel The bond of nature draw me to my own, My own in thee, for what thou art is mine; Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.”

“I’m sick of white walls and endings. The only thing that doesn’t end in this place is me. I don’t end. I just go on, and on, swinging that scythe glued to my hand. There’s no rhythm to the strokes. Few see death coming, and even those who do see death don’t see me. Because there is no me. Not anymore. Always the reaper, never the reaped. Soon that won’t bother me. Soon I won’t care. Emotional death follows physical death at a different pace for each reaper. I’ve put it off for more than two years, but it’s inevitable.”

“Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,Said then the lost Archangel, this the seatThat we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloomFor that celestial light? Be it so since he Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid What shall be right. Farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fieldsWhere joy forever dwells. Hail horrors HailInfernal world, and thou profoundest hellReceive thy new possessor, one who bringsA mind not to be changed by place or timeThe mind is its own place and in itselfCan make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.What matter where if I be still the sameAnd what I should be--All but less than heWhom thunder hath made greater. Here at leastWe shall be free. Th' Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy will not drive us hence.Here we may reign supreme, and in my choiceTo reign is worth ambition, though in hell.Better to reign in hell than serve in Heav'n.But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,Th'associates and co-partners of our lossLie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool.And call them not to share with us their partIn this unhappy mansion? Or, once more,With rallying arms, to try what may be yetRegained in heav'n or what more lost in hell!”

“So I ask my pride that it always go along with my wisdom. And when my wisdom leaves me one day alas - it loves to flyway - let my pride then fly with my folly.”