Quotes from Craig D. Lounsbrough

To love those who hate us is to refuse to borrow their hatred.

Hate feeds on itself, while love will always find itself fed.

The love hidden within is always greater than the hate displayed without.

Love is a perpetual journey that is extraordinary because it will never find itself terminated by a destination.

We have errantly romanticized love as something we freely get verses something we sacrifice for in the giving.

Authentic love is deciding to live on a one-way street where all the arrows point down the street and not a single one of them point back up to where I'm standing.

I cannot live without you. For to attempt to do so would be to rob both of us of each other, and that is thievery of the greatest sort.

Love never lives on a one-way street, for it will always come back up the road bigger than how we had sent it down the road.

I don't know that love is freedom. Rather, I think it's more a force to preserve freedom.

The romantic within us is a harbinger of our deepest desires.

For love to eliminate pain is to waste it, for it is love alone that possesses sufficient force to bend pain against everything that would break us.

Once I have impounded love and towed it into the confine of words, I have lost it altogether.

With God, anything that stands against you will always be inferior to what resides within you.

Instinct is all of our humanity being deliberately honest with all of life.

A compass calibrated by my greed is a rather shrewd way to legitimize my agenda. However, true north on a compass such as this is a straight line to the edge of a really big cliff.

It's not that I've been invited to the hole I'm standing in. It's that I accepted the invitation.

Things becomes invisible at the very moment I refuse to grant them importance. And while I am utterly ashamed to admit it, many of the most important things in my life are invisible.

If there's one thing that's irrefutably absurd, it's believing that we can separate intelligence from wisdom and still have it be intelligence.

Too often, opinion is a lens polished by the grit of bias. And as I stare through my own lens, I might ask how much polish can the grit of bias actually create?

I must never equate the degree of pain as evidencing the incorrectness of a decision, for if I do I will default on some of the most critical decisions I should have ever made.

I'm in a hole because at some point I found a shovel and started digging. Maybe I should trade my shovels for ladders and start climbing.

Impulsivity is something akin to spontaneously jumping out of an airplane and not realizing that you forgot something until about five seconds before impact.

Things that are truly great need nothing from me, and to somehow think that they do speaks to my utter lack of greatness.

If I simply look at the map that I've so tediously created, it will explain why I'm laying at the bottom of this cliff looking up.