The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler

'I never saw any of them again—except the cops. No way has yet been invented to say goodbye to them."

Ravenous: A Food Lover's Journey from Obsession to Freedom by Dayna Macy

"There’s more food here if anyone is still hungry," a volunteer calls out. Some men begin to line up again. I apologize to one man because I only have broken pieces of meatloaf to give him. "No need to apologize," he says. "I’m the father of six; I know what it’s like to eat what’s left over. This is good. I’m blessed." As I serve him some broken pieces, I realize something: just as there is a crisis of hunger in the world, there is also a crisis of desire—where you’re always hungry, whether it’s for food, or things, or attention, or admiration. There’s no end to wanting more—until you recognize the abundance you already have. My search for balance extends beyond food. It extends to all that I am attached to and all I consume. I have to say "no" to some things so I can say “yes” to others. Each decision to consume is a choice to spend my time, energy, and attention. Maybe one key to being happier is not having more, but needing less.

The Simple Dollar by Trent A. Hamm

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...frugality is an exchange: You’re trading the things you don’t value for things that you do value... Consider the human hierarchy of needs as described by Abraham Maslow. To put it simply, once one’s basic needs are met—clothing, food, shelter, companionship—humans then tend to have higher aspirations, such as self-actualization and professional fulfillment. This hierarchy is subverted in many ways—advertising, peer pressure, our own psychology—and it leaves us taking actions that undermine our basic needs while making futile attempts at grabbing at our higher needs.

THE HOLY SPIRIT: Amazing Power for Everyday People by Susan Rohrer

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Isn’t it amazing that the Spirit—who is capable of such great force—is simultaneously characterized by gentleness? This powerful Spirit is the embodiment of all of the fruits listed in Galatians 5:22–23, fruits that Scripture prioritizes above all of the marvelous gifts He distributes. The Holy Spirit is powerfully loving, commandingly joyful, actively peaceful, compellingly patient, emphatically kind, intensely good, infallibly faithful, potently gentle, and vigorously self-controlled. Who wouldn’t want to know a person like this?

The Indie Journey: Secrets to Writing Success by J.A. Konrath, et al

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Look, I figured out early on that writing is about failure. Almost 100 percent guaranteed failure. You’ll never write it as well as you want, you will always fall short of perfection, a typo will always slip in, rejection is more certain than death and taxes, and, if you are lucky enough to get published, a horde is waiting to happily rake you over the coals. After a while, you build up great layers of scar tissue. At this point, I don’t care what anyone thinks except my readers, who are my only customers. And, in a way, they are among my closest, most intimate friends. So why should I care if some scared writer tries to apply a stigma? If you’re a writer, you should be scared, but if you go around worrying about other writers, you have your eyes on the wrong prize. Listen to readers. They rarely apply stigma. The only labels they care about are "good" and "crap."

Evening Prayer from Puritan Prayers by Anonymous

O lover of Thy people, Thou hast placed my whole being in the hands of Jesus, my redeemer, commander, husband, friend, and carest for me in Him. Keep me holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners; may I not know the voice of strangers, but go to Him where He is, and follow where He leads. Thou hast bathed me once for all in the sin- removing fountain, cleanse me now from this day's defilement, from its faults, deficiencies of virtue, harmful extremes, that I may exhibit a perfect character in Jesus. O Master, who didst wash the disciples' feet, be very patient with me, be very condescending to my faults, go on with me till Thy great work in me is completed. I desire to conquer self in every respect, to overcome the body with its affections and lusts, to keep under my flesh, to guard my manhood from all grosser sins, to check the refined power of my natural mind, to live entirely to Thy glory, to be deaf to unmerited censure and the praise of men. Nothing can hurt my new-born inner man, it cannot be smitten or die; nothing can mar the dominion of Thy Spirit within me; it is enough to have Thy approbation and that of my conscience. Keep me humble, dependent, supremely joyful, as calm and quiet as a sucking child, yet earnest and active. I wish not so much to do as to be, and I long to be like Jesus; if Thou dost make me right I shall be right; Lord, I belong to Thee, make me worthy of Thyself.

Evening Praise from Puritan Prayers by Anonymous

Giver of all, another day is ended and I take my place beneath my great redeemer's cross, where healing streams continually descend, where balm is poured into every wound, where I wash anew in the all-cleansing blood, assured that Thou seest in me no spots of sin. Yet a little while and I shall go to Thy home and be no more seen; help me to gird up the loins of my mind, to quicken my step, to speed as if each moment were my last, that my life be joy, my death glory. I thank Thee for the temporal blessings of this world —the refreshing air, the light of the sun, the food that renews strength, the raiment that clothes, the dwelling that shelters, the sleep that gives rest, the starry canopy of night, the summer breeze, the flowers' sweetness, the music of flowing streams, the happy endearments of family, kindred, friends. Things animate, things inanimate, minister to my comfort. My cup runs over. Suffer me not to be insensible to these daily mercies. Thy hand bestows blessings: Thy power averts evil. I bring my tribute of thanks for spiritual graces, the full warmth of faith, the cheering presence of Thy Spirit, the strength of Thy restraining will, Thy spiking of hell's artillery. Blessed be my sovereign Lord!

The American Patriot's Almanac: Daily Readings on America by William J. Bennett

THIS PRAYER is abridged from George Washington's Thanksgiving Proclamation of 1789. May we all unite in rendering unto God our sincere and humble thanks— For His kind care and protection of the people of this country, For the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty which we have enjoyed, For the peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, For the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge, and in general for all the great and various favors which He hath been pleased to confer upon us. And may we also unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech Him— To pardon our national and other transgressions, To enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually, To render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed, To protect and guide all nations and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord, To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science, And generally to grant unto all mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as He alone knows to be best.

The American Patriot's Almanac: Daily Readings on America by William J. Bennett

ON NOVEMBER 22, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald during a visit to Dallas, Texas. This somber anniversary is a good time to remember the stirring words the young president offered the nation in his inaugural address, less than three years before his death: Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe. Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need—not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation," a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself. . .. In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility—I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it. And the glow from that fire can truly light the world. And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country. . .. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.

Confession and Petition from Puritan Prayers by Anonymous

Holy Lord, I have sinned times without number, and been guilty of pride and unbelief, of failure to find Thy mind in Thy Word, of neglect to seek Thee in my daily life. My transgressions and short-comings present me with a list of accusations, but I bless Thee that they will not stand against me, for all have been laid on Christ. Go on to subdue my corruptions, and grant me grace to live above them. Let not the passions of the flesh nor lustings of the mind bring my spirit into subjection, but do Thou rule over me in liberty and power. I thank Thee that many of my prayers have been refused. I have asked amiss and do not have, I have prayed from lusts and been rejected, I have longed for Egypt and been given a wilderness. Go on with Thy patient work, answering 'no' to my wrongful prayers, and fitting me to accept it. Purge me from every false desire, every base aspiration, everything contrary to Thy rule. I thank Thee for Thy wisdom and Thy love, for all the acts of discipline to which I am subject, for sometimes putting me into the furnace to refine my gold and remove my dross. No trial is so hard to bear as a sense of sin. If Thou shouldst give me choice to live in pleasure and keep my sins, or to have them burnt away with trial, give me sanctified affliction. Deliver me from every evil habit, every accretion of former sins, everything that dims the brightness of Thy grace in me, everything that prevents me taking delight in Thee. Then I shall bless Thee, God of Jeshurun, for helping me to be upright.

Flowers over the Wall by Karolee Grim

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The reason outer beauty is so important to the world is because Satan makes the least of us the most important part.

Three Things to Remember by William Blake

A Robin Redbreast in a cage, 
Puts all Heaven in a rage. 

A skylark wounded on the wing 
Doth make a cherub cease to sing. 

He who shall hurt the little wren 
Shall never be beloved by men. 

The Apparition by John Donne

When by thy scorn, O murderess, I am dead, 
And that thou think’st thee free 
From all solicitation from me,
 Then shall my ghost come to thy bed, 
And thee, feigned vestal, in worse arms shall see; 
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink, 
'And he, whose thou art then, being tired before, '
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think'
 Thou call’st for more,     
 'And in false sleep will from thee shrink,
 And then poor aspen wretch, neglected thou 
Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie
 A verier ghost than I; 
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
 Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent, 
I had rather thou shouldst painfully repent, 
Than by my threatenings rest still innocent

Divine Support from Puritan Prayers by Anonymous

Thou art the blessed God, happy in Thyself, source of happiness in Thy creatures, my maker, benefactor, proprietor, upholder. Thou hast produced and sustained me, supported and indulged me, saved and kept me; Thou art in every situation able to meet my needs and miseries. May I live by Thee, live for Thee, never be satisfied with my Christian progress but as I resemble Christ; and may conformity to His principles, temper, and conduct grow hourly in my life. Let Thy unexampled love constrain me into holy obedience, and render my duty my delight. If others deem my faith folly, my meekness infirmity, my zeal madness, my hope delusion, my actions hypocrisy, may I rejoice to suffer for Thy name. Keep me walking steadfastly towards the country of everlasting delights, that paradise-land which is my true inheritance. Support me by the strength of heaven that I may never turn back, or desire false pleasures that will disappear into nothing. As I pursue my heavenly journey by Thy grace let me be known as a man with no aim but that of a burning desire for Thee, and the good and salvation of my fellow men.

The Night Walk Men by Jason McIntyre

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You want to chat about the weather first? Well, fine. We can talk about that first. If it’s important. Before that, though, you need to know one thing. This is going to be painful. This is going to be a bowling ball dropped from waist height on your toes. A dentist’s chair plus a drill plus small talk. This is going to be coming down from on high. Or finding your spouse in bed with another. Or murder-suicide. Or heavy metal from the neighbour at three in the morning. This is going to be the doctor telling you it’s inoperable. Or a chemical burn on flesh. Or pepper spray and a wrongful conviction. This is going to be a fire eating your life’s work. This is going to be Your First Time. Or Your Last Time. This is going to be twelve fresh body bags going under the yellow tape and into the house at the end of Sheppard Street. This is going to be malevolent eyes in the dark staring down into a crib at a screaming baby. This is going to be painful. But we can chat about the weather first. That’s no big deal.

Survivors Club by Lisa Gardner

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Meg herself didn't get it. Uncle Vinnie had a loud, booming laugh. He smelled of whiskey and stale cigars. His head was nearly bald, his stomach bursting huge. He looked to her like Kojak crossed with Santa Claus. How could you not like Kojak crossed with Santa Claus?

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

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’Mama,’ he replied to her, ‘do not weep, life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we don’t want to realize it, and if we did care to realize it, paradise would be established in all the world tomorrow.’ And we all wondered at his words, so strangely and so resolutely did he say this; we felt tender emotion and we wept….’Dear mother, droplet of my blood,’ he said (at that time he had begun to use endearments of this kind, unexpected ones), ‘beloved droplet of my blood, joyful one, you must learn that of a truth each of us is guilty before all for everyone and everything. I do not know how to explain this to you, but I feel that it is so, to the point of torment. And how could we have lived all this time being angry with one another and knowing nothing of this?’ [He spoke even of being guilty before the birds and all creation] …’Yes, he said, ‘all around me there has been such divine glory: birds, trees, meadows, sky, and I alone have lived in disgrace, I alone have dishonored it all, completely ignoring its beauty and glory.’ ‘You take too many sins upon yourself,’ dear mother would say, weeping. ‘But dear mother, joy of my life. I am crying from joy, and not from grief; why, I myself want to be guilty before them, only I cannot explain it to you, for I do not know how to love them. Let me be culpable before all, and then all will forgive me, and that will be paradise. Am I not in paradise now?’

McMafia by Misha Glenny

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By using prohibited narcotics, consumers are not only contributing to huge criminal profits, they bear indirect responsibility for the trail of blood that marks every stage of the drugs’ journey.

Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace by Brennan Manning

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Let the prayer of Nikos Kazantzakis arise from our hearts as a passionate pitch of loving awareness: I am a bow in your hands, Lord. Draw me, lest I rot. Do not overdraw me, Lord. I shall break. Overdraw me, Lord, and who cares if I break?

Souvenirs of Solitude: Finding Rest in Abba's Embrace by Brennan Manning

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"Were you grieved by the divine command to Abraham that he slay his only begotten son Isaac on Mount Moriah? Were you relieved when the angel intervened, Abraham's hand was stayed, and the sacrifice was not carried out? Have you forgotten that on Good Friday no angel intervened, that sacrifice was carried out, and it was not the heart of Abraham that was broken?