Humans who spend time in the wilderness, alone, without man-made mechanical noise around them, often discover that their brain begins to recover its ability to discern things. — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
Men point to the sad incidents of human life on earth, and they ask "Where is the love of God?" God points to that Cross as the unreserved manifestation of love so inconceivably infinite as to answer every challenge and… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
In every marriage more than a week old, there are grounds for divorce. The trick is to find, and continue to find, grounds for… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
The Cross was the manifestation of Divine love without reserve or limit; but it was also the expression of man's unutterable malignity. — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
Our Southern brethren have done grievously, they have rebelled and have attacked their father's house and their loyal brothers. They must be punished and… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind toward some resolution which it may… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
The mission of the playwright is to look in his heart and write, to write whatever concerns him at the moment; to write with… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
I shall await the first shot, and if you do not batter us to pieces, we shall be starved out in a few days. — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
Apart from it, the incarnation and the ministry would lose all their significance, the crucifixion would be but a martyrdom, and the cross a… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
A lot of young writers wait for inspiration. The inspiration only hits you at the desk. — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
For what constitutes a Christian is not; accepting the Christian's creed, but accepting Christ as Savior and Lord. It is a question of personal… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
That Jesus of Nazareth died upon a cross is mere matter of history; that He who did so die was the Christ the Son… — Robert Anderson Copy Share Image
