The birth of Christ is the central event in the history of the earth-- the very thing the whole story has been about.

You know what this is, I suppose. Religious melancholia. Stop while there is time. If you dive, you dive into insanity.

Puddleglum,' they've said, 'You're altogether too full of bobance and bounce and high spirits. You've got to learn that life isn't all fricasseed frogs and ell pie. You want something to sober you down a bit. We're only saying it for your own good, Puddleglum.' That's what they say. Now a job like this --a journey up north just as winter's beginning looking for a prince that probably isn't there, by way of ruined city nobody's ever seen-- will be just the thing. If that doesn't steady a chap, I don't know what will.

More like the real thing,' said the lord Digory softly. - The Last Battle

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains.

For the church is not a human society of people united by their natural affinities but the Body of Christ, in which all members, however different, (and He rejoices in their differences and by no means wishes to iron them out) must share the common life, complementing and helping one another precisely by their differences.

Nothing is yet in its true form.