Where there is an unreconciled quarrel, everybody suffers
We do not know what things look like, as you say, the beast said. We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing.
Wait until tomorrow to find what tomorrow holds.
To love is to be vulnerable; and it is only in vulnerability and risk—not safety and security—that we overcome darkness.
Thou cannot harm a butterfly, without troubling a star.
This book that defied the categories has now endured for more than half a century, finding new readers in each generation. What is its secret? And what kind of person could produce such a book? Madele...
There’s something a little humiliating about having to accept that, at fifty-one, one is naïve. I am. I would, quite often, like to be grownup, wise, and sophisticated. But these gifts are not mine.
There's nothing left except to try.
The very young woman can be charming and delightful and pretty but only a mature woman can be beautiful; and only a mature man can be strong enough to be tender.
The refusal to love is the only unbearable thing.
The peculiar idea that bigger is better has been around for at least as long as I have, and it's always bothered me. There is within it the implication that it is more difficult for God to care about...
The only way to cope with something deadly serious is to try to treat it a little lightly.
The journey homewards. Coming home. That's what it's all about. The journey to the coming of the Kingdom. That's probably the chief difference between the Christian and the secular artist--the purpose...
The growth of love is not a straight line, but a series of hills and valleys.
The foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble,...
The earth will never be the same againRock, water, tree, iron, share this greifAs distant stars participate in the pain.A candle snuffed, a falling star or leaf,A dolphin death, O this particular loss...
The complete, the true Mrs Whatsit, Meg realized, was beyond human understanding. What she saw was only the game Mrs Whatsit was playing; it was an amusing and charming game, a game full of both laugh...
Progo,' Meg asked. 'You memorized the names of all the stars - how many are there?'How many? Great heavens, earthling. I haven't the faintest idea.'But you said your last assignment was to memorize th...
Poets are born knowing the language of angels.
Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future’s sakes.