To seek the praise of men as our motivation is to abandon truly great things, for more often than not truly great things elicit the ire of men far more than they garner their praises.

By choosing comfort we are in the very same decision choosing to miss every great thing in life, and that thought should be anything but comforting.

A life that chooses not to grow is a life that died long before it ever lived.

We want greatness, but we prefer it tamed and on a leash short enough for us to control it, yet long enough to allow it to retain some remote yet diminished flavor of greatness.

Far too often, it is at the moment where we finally stand on the very precipice of some great thing that we turn and abandon it, for it is at these seminal moments that fear wins and greatness dies. The beauty of Christmas is that God steps over precipices.

But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited people never hear anything but praise.