A man with an empty belly cannot think clearly.

More are men's ends marked than their lives before. The setting sun, the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

His lights blinked in binary read-out as he answered by voder, “Eleven thousand two hundred thirty-eight with uncertainty plus-minus eighty-one representing possible identities and nulls. Shall I start program?

It is in our acceptance of what is given that God gives Himself.

Written By Elisabeth Elliot

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