The law tells me how crooked I am. Grace comes along and straightens me out.

Listen, I'm against sin. I'll kick it as long as I've got a foot, I'll fight it as long as I've got a fist, I've butt it as long as I've got a head, and I'll bite it as long as I've got a tooth. And when I'm old, fistless, footless, and toothless, I'll gum it till I go home to glory and it goes home to perdition.

One reason sin flourishes is that it is treated like a cream puff instead of a rattlesnake.

There is no law, divine or human, that the saloon respects.

Only those who are truly aware of their sin can truly cherish grace.

The church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.