Birds of a Feather
How lovely is Your dwelling place, O LORD of Hosts! My soul longs, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she places her young near Your altars, O…
Giving Myself Over [Henry O. Arnold]
If I as a writer am to tell a story, I must give myself over to its peculiar flow. As the power of the story begins to rise up within me, I must sit down and write. I yield. I isolate. I watch and listen. I resist the temptation to manipulate, and I allow the…
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