I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside.

You cannot make men good by law: and without good men you cannot have a good society.

Grief is like a bomber circling round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead; physical pain is like the steady barrage on a trench in World War One, hours if it with no let-up for a moment. Thought is never static pain often is... is it not yet enough?

He cannot "tempt" to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles.

Friends are seldom found; they are made.

I am often, I believe, praying for others when I should be doing things for them. It's so much easier to pray for a bore than to go and see him.

You can't just go on being a good egg. You must either hatch or go bad!