I fancy that most people who think at all have done a great deal of their thinking in the first fourteen years.

I begin to suspect that the world is divided not only into the happy and the unhappy, but into those who like happiness and those who, odd as it seems, really don't.

Most of all, perhaps, we need an intimate knowledge of the past. Not that the past has anything magical about it, but we cannot study the future.

Many things have gone wrong with the world that God made and... God insists, and insists very loudly, on our putting them right again

We don't have a soul. We are a soul. We happen to have a body.

For pride is spiritual cancer: it eats up the very possibility of love, or contentment, or even common sense.

It's always winter but it's never Christmas.