A Quote by Brandon Heath

There is hope for me yet
 Because God won't forget
 All the plans he's made for me
 I have to wait and see
 He's not finished with me yet — © Brandon Heath
There is hope for me yet Because God won't forget All the plans he's made for me I have to wait and see He's not finished with me yet
I don't know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. That's really what I am. But I don't think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.
I dont know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. Thats really what I am. But I dont think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.
I felt my faith was on again off again until I met Paula White, who saw that the Lord had other plans; there was a weightiness to my spirit. She gave me the news that God loved me and wanted his son back. She spoke to the king in me and gave me new hope I could get right with God. The God I had hungered for; the Father I had been missing.
Finished, it's finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished. Grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly, there's a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap. I can't be punished any more. I'll go now to my kitchen, ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, and wait for him to whistle me. Nice dimensions, nice proportions, I'll lean on the table, and look at the wall, and wait for him to whistle me.
I used to say, for me, writing was like walking a high wire, and heroin made me forget there was no net. Which is a fancy way of saying dope made me forget how shitty I felt for being on dope.
I can see that I imagine all kinds of rejection that never happens. I can see that I beg and plead for love that is freely offered because I somehow believe that if I don't ask for it, everyone will forget about me: I will be a little kid sent off to sleep-away camp whose parents forget to meet her at the bus when she comes back in August. Or else I think people are nice to me only to be nice to me, that they feel sorry for me because I am such a loser- as if anyone could possibly be that generous.
I hope they see the genuine side of me, of my music, of my voice. I hope that they feel me. I hope that what I sing and what I say really gets across to the viewer because everything that comes out is true.
The peace, comfort, and hope God gave me made me feel like I really was walking in his light; those spiritual blessings were constant reminders that God really did love me. He loved me enough to tuck his Word in my heart so I'd have it when my eyes could no longer read it.
My books happen. They tend to blast in from nowhere, seize me by the throat, and howl 'Write me! Write me now!' But they rarely stand still long enough for me to see what and who they are, before they hurtle away again. And so I spend a lot of time running after them, like a thrown rider after an escaped horse, saying 'Wait for me! Wait for me!' and waving my notebook in the air.
While acting in Armed Response I was always focused, just so they could see me as a peer and maybe not some idiot who's coming in from the pro-wrestling world. I'm sure they had their preconceived notions about me so I just hope that once we were finished with a scene, or finished with the movie overall, that I managed to change their perspective based on what they were expecting.
You’re the world to me,” I whisper onto her lips. “I hope you never forget that.” “I’ll never forget,” she whispers back.. “But if I ever do, for whatever reason, I hope you’ll always find a way to remind me.” ...“Always.
I never know tomorrow what I might be doing. I just ask God to lead me and show me and direct me and help me and support me in it. So I just wait to hear the call.
Lie beside me. Let me see the division of your pores. Let me see the web of scars made by your family's claws and you their furniture. Let me see the wounds that they denied. The battle ground of family life that has been your body. Let me see the bruised red lines that signal their encampment. Let me see the routed place where they are gone. Lie beside me and let the seeing be healing. No need to hide. No need for either darkness or light. Let me see you as you are.
We all have an idea of what we look like, and then you see a giant picture of yourself and you're like, "Oh my god, wait, that's me?" And it's such a specific version of me, with styling, and art direction... It's like when you hear yourself on a recording, and you go, "That's what I sound like?!" That's how I feel when I see images of me.
So when I'm killed, don't wait for me, Walking the dim corridor; In Heaven or Hell, don't wait for me, Or you must wait for evermore. You'll find me buried, living-dead In these verses that you've read.
They couldn't wait to get me out. My dad found my place, my mom helped me pack, and my brother was making architectural plans for my bedroom. It was just what you do at 18.
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