. . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the trees—then, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctance—our wordswere meaningless uttered on the wind. . .
The flame of testimony burns brightly when fed with the oil of grace.
If you can confess before a friend, you don’t need a priest.
You are a success and nothing will stop your shining!
I went to the priest for confession, but he didn’t do it.
We first become salesmen as children in the confession booths of our parents.