One of the characteristics of modern life seems to be that we are moving at an ever-increasing rate, regardless of turbulence or obstacles.
Dieter F. Uchtdorf
"Of Things That Matter Most," General Conference October 2010
I am always for the consideration of these little minute things that concern us to-day. We should always be engaged in doing the things that belong to to-day. There is but one course that you and I can pursue and be right, and that is, to be sufficiently humble to look at the most minute fibers. The large roots of a tree receive their nourishment through the little fibers, and they receive it from the fountain; and then that nourishment is sent through the mains trunk of the tree into the limbs, branches, and twigs.
Journal of Discourses, Vol.8, p.328
A childhood experience introduced me to the idea that some choices are good but others are better. I lived for two years on a farm. We rarely went to town. Our Christmas shopping was done in the Sears, Roebuck catalog. I spent hours poring over its pages. For the rural families of that day, catalog pages were like the shopping mall or the Internet of our time. Something about some displays of merchandise in the catalog fixed itself in my mind. There were three degrees of quality: good, better, and best. For example, some men's shoes were labeled good ($1.84), some better ($2.98), and some best ($3.45). As we consider various choices, we should remember that it is not enough that something is good. Other choices are better, and still others are best. Even though a particular choice is more costly, its far greater value may make it the best choice of all. Consider how we use our time in the choices we make in viewing television, playing video games, surfing the Internet, or reading books or magazines. Of course it is good to view wholesome entertainment or to obtain interesting information. But not everything of that sort is worth the portion of our life we give to obtain it. Some things are better, and others are best.
“Good, Better, Best,” Ensign, Nov 2007, 104–8
Television interview, 6 Jan. 1986. Quoted in: Times (London, 12 Jan. 1986).
While we were at supper some of the boys went over to the agent's office and told of our arrival. They came back and said that the agent and clerk declared they intended to kill me on sight.
I do not wish to be considered a boaster, in truth I leave many things untold that I might tell, only I despise a braggart and do not wish to appear as one. I was too hungry to let this report stop my eating. When I got through, I picked up my shot gun, putting a few extra navy balls into it and told the boys I was going over to the office. Some of them wanted to go with me, but I preferred going alone.
Men often get the name of being brave and fearless from such occurrences, but in this case I will tell just how I felt and what my reasons were, and I think many others feel the same under similar circumstances.
I consider suspense or uncertainty the most disagreeable condition in the world. I do not wish to be annoyed by fear or dread of being killed and I deemed it best to get that off my mind at once, as I was tired and wished to rest. Again, I wanted freedom to be at the agency unmolested. Then I did not much believe that the intention was to kill me, for men who really intend to kill scarcely ever send word of their intentions. All this passed in my mind, so it was not any great bravery on my part.
On reaching the office I knocked, and was told to come in. I had my shot gun ready. Their pistols lay in front of them. I was asked what I wanted. I replied that I wanted to know whether it was to be war or peace.
The agent answered, "I guess it had better be peace."
"Peace it is then," I put my gun down and shook hands with both.
I was kindly treated and accommodated in many ways by the agent, after this, while at the agency I got a team from him to bring in the sled and goods.
Forty Years Among the Indians: A True Yet Thrilling Narrative of the Author's Experiences Among the Natives. By Daniel W. Jones. Juvenile Instructor, Salt Lake City, UT. 1890. Chapter XXVIII