“And I wish that I was made of stoneSo that I would not have to seeA beauty impossible to defineA beauty impossible to believeA beauty impossible to endureThe blood imparted in little sipsThe smell of you still on my handsAs I bring the cup up to my lipsNo God up in the skyNo devil beneath the seaCould do the job that you did, babyOf bringing me to my knees”

“God of the impossible, maker of all miracles, I stand in awe of You, I'm so amazed by how You reach into my brokenness, make me beautiful again, I believe yes, I believe nothing is impossible with You.”

“I never found beauty in longing for the impossible and never found the possible to be beyond my reach.”

“On Christ’s glory I would fix all my thoughts and desires, and the more I see of the glory of Christ, the more the painted beauties of this world will wither in my eyes and I will be more and more crucified to this world. It will become to me like something dead and putrid, impossible for me to enjoy.”

“One of my greatest difficulties in consenting to think of religion was that I thought I should have to give up my beautiful thoughts and my love for the things God has made. But I find that the happiness springing from all things not in themselves sinful is much increased by religion. God is the God of the Beautiful—Religion is the love of the Beautiful, and Heaven is the Home of the Beautiful—-Nature is tenfold brighter in the Sun of Righteousness, and my love of Nature is more intense since I became a Christian—-if indeed I am one. God has not given me such thoughts and forbidden me to enjoy them.”

“You,” he whispered, bringing his hand to hover by my cheek.“Are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”And then he touched me.”