Slowly, quietly, like snow-flakesโlike the small flakes that come when it is going to snow all night โlittle flakes of me, my impressions, my selections, are settling down on the image of her. The real shape wil be quite hidden in the end.
C. S. LewisThe only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books.
C. S. LewisThe man who truly and disinterestedly enjoys any one thing in the world, for its own sake, and without caring two-pence what other people say about it, is by that very fact forewarmed against some of our subtlest modes of attack.
C. S. Lewis