Something deep in the human heart breaks at the thought of a life of mediocrity.

Sleeping on a dragon's hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.

Since I am I, I must make an act of self-surrender, however small or however easy, in living to God rather than to my self.

With my mother's death all settled happiness, all that was tranquil and reliable, disappeared from my life. There was to be much fun, many pleasures, many stabs of Joy; but no more of the old security. It was sea and islands now; the great continent had sunk like Atlantis.

You cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

To the Ancients, Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves... The modern world in comparison, ignores it.

Where, except in uncreated light, can the darkness be drowned?