Always prefer the plain direct word to the long, vague one.

That part of Rostrevor which overlooks Carlingford Lough is my idea of Narnia.

You have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another.

Morality, like numinous awe, is a jump; in it, man goes beyond anything that can be 'given' in the facts of experience.

I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state, but a process. It needs not a map, but a history, and if I don't stop writing that history at some quite arbitrary point, there's no reason why I should ever stop.

And in truth (as I now see) I had the wish to put off my journey as long as I could. Not for any peril or labour it might cost; but because I could see nothing in the whole world for me to do once it was accomplished. AS long as this act lay before me, there was, as it were, some barrier between me and the dead desert which the rest of my life must be.

We have a strange illusion that mere time cancels sin. But mere time does nothing either to the fact or to the guilt of a sin.