A Quote by Aiden Wilson Tozer

When a man of God dies, nothing of God dies. — © Aiden Wilson Tozer
When a man of God dies, nothing of God dies.
Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day.
Those who surrender to the service of the poor through love of Christ, will live like the grains of wheat that dies. It only apparently dies. If it were not to die, it would remain a solitary grain. The harvest comes because of the grain that dies. We know that every effort to improve society, above all when society is so full of injustice and sin, is an effort that God blesses; that God wants; that God demands of us.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
God gives life and he takes life. Everybody who dies, dies because God wills that they die.
When belief in a god dies, the god dies.
Whenever someone dies, a part of the universe dies too. Everything a person felt, experience and saw dies with them, like tears in the rain.
Nothing that is really good and God-like dies.
To a father, when a child dies, the future dies; to a child when a parent dies, the past dies.
Every time a man dies, a child dies too, and an adolescent and a young man as well; everyone weeps for the one who was dear to him.
When a man dies, he does not just die of the disease he has: he dies of his whole life.
Cause if you shoot a bullet someone dies. If you drop a bomb many die. You hit a woman, love dies. But if you say the F-word... nothing actually happens.
The man who dies rich, dies in disgrace.
The man who dies rich, dies disgraced.
He who dies before he dies does not die when he dies.
All I can think is that when you torment a person...the soul dies. When the soul dies, I suppose mercy dies, too.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. Anaïs Nin I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved. George Eliot Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
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