But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.
The world does not need more Christian literature. What it needs is more Christians writing good literature.
Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more, When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.
I do not think that all who choose wrong roads perish; but their rescue consists in being put back on the right road.
You can begin as if nothing had ever gone wrong. White as snow.
We know nothing of religion here: we only think of Christ.
Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly. For all that can be shaken will be shaken and only the unshakeable remains.
That thing is Freedom: the gift whereby ye most resemble your Maker and are yourselves part of eternal reality.
Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.
The most precious gift that marriage gave me was the constant impact of something very close and intimate, yet all the time unmistakably other, resistant – in a word, real.
Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.
Praise is the mode of love which always has some element of joy in it.
It has actually become very necessary in our time to rebut the theory that every firm and serious friendship is really homosexual.
Good, as it ripens, becomes continually more different not only from evil but from other good.
There is no neutral ground in the universe. Every square inch, every split second is claimed by God, and counterclaimed by Satan.
And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.
All that is not eternal is eternally out of date.
Holy places are dark places. It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them. Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood.
For me, reason is the natural organ of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning. Imagination, producing new metaphors or revivifying old, is not the cause of truth, but its condition.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.