It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us; it is the very sign of His presence.

Bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.

There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him.

Death and resurrection are what the story is about and had we but eyes to see it, this has been hinted on every page, met us, in some disguise, at every turn, and even been muttered in conversations between such minor characters (if they are minor characters) as the vegetables.

Here at last is the thing I was made for.

The false religion of lust is baser than the false religion of mother-love or patriotism or art: but lust is less likely to be made into a religion.

I expect you have seen someone put a a lighted match to a bit of newspaper which is propped up in a grate against an unlit fire. And for a second nothing seems to have happened; and then you notice a tiny steak of flame creeping along the edged of the newspaper. It was like that now.