It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.

I need Christ, not something that resembles Him.

Aren't all these notes the senseless writings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it?

I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.

you had nothing to say about it and yet made the nothing up into words.

If the world is meaningless, then so are we; if we mean something, we do not mean alone.

And the seriousness with which the other party takes my words always raises the doubt whether I have taken them seriously enough myself.