Be confident small immortals. You are not the only voice that all things utter, nor is there eternal silence in the places where you cannot come.

Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear

I do not doubt that if the Paradisal man could now appear among us, we should regard him as an utter savage, a creature to be exploited or, at best, patronised. Only one or two, and those the holiest among us, would glance a second time at the naked, shaggy-bearded, slow spoken creature: but they, after a few minutes, would fall at his feet.

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

You are guilty of no evil, Ransom of Thulcandra, except a little fearfulness. For that, the journey you go on is your pain, and perhaps your cure: for you must be either mad or brave before it is ended.

We are not the playwright, we are not the producer, we are not even the audience. We are on the stage.

The real trouble about the duty of forgiveness is that you do it with all your might on Monday and then find on Wednesday that it hasn't stayed put and all has to be done over again.