Man's conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature's conquest of Man.

All the delights of sense, or heart, or intellect, with which you could once have tempted him, even the delights of virtue itself, now seem to him in comparison but as the half nauseous attractions of a raddled harlot would seem to a man who hears that his true beloved whom he has loved all his life and whom he had believed to be dead is alive and even now at his door.

Man does not have a soul. He is a soul. He has a body.

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.

Faith, in the sense in which I am here using the word, is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods.

If the universe is so bad...how on earth did human beings ever come to attribute it to the activity of a wise and good Creator?

I know all about the despair of overcoming chronic temptation. It is not serious, provided self-offended petulance, annoyance at breaking records, impatience, etc., don't get the upper hand. No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep picking ourselves up each time...The only fatal thing is to lose one's temper and give up.