Mercy detached from justice grows unmerciful.
Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear.
Our experience is coloured through and through by books and plays and the cinema, and it takes patience and skill to disentangle the things we have really learned from life for ourselves.
No natural feelings are high or low, holy or unholy, in themselves. They are all holy when God’s hand is on the rein. They all go bad when they set up on their own and make themselves into false gods.
It is a happy moment when our desire crosses with the will of Heavenly Father.
And so for a time it looked as if all the adventures were coming to and end; but that was not to be.
Love, in its own nature, demands the perfecting of the beloved.
Falling in love is something that happens to us, being is love is something we do. No passion is self preservatory.
Most of us, I suppose, have a secret country but for most of us it is only an imaginary country. Edmund and Lucy were luckier than other people in that respect.
There is no other day. All days are present now. This moment contains all moments.
The sane would do no good if they made themselves mad to help madmen.
It is after you have realized that there is a real Moral Law, and a Power behind the law, and that you have broken that law and put yourself wrong with that Power – it is after all this, and not a moment sooner, that Christianity begins to talk.
The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart.
For pride is spiritual cancer: it eats up the very possibility of love, or contentment, or even common sense.
I am struck here by the curious mixture of justice and injustice in our lives. We are blamed for our real faults but usually not on the right occasions.
Those of us who are blamed when old for reading childish books were blamed when children for reading books too old for us.
But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder.
The incalculable winds of fantasy and music and poetry, the mere face of a girl, the song of a bird, or the sight of a horizon, are always blowing evil’s whole structure away.
Look for the valleys, the green places, and fly through them. There will always be a way through.
Prosperity knits a man to the world. He feels that he is finding his place in it, while really it is finding its place in him.