We're free Narnians, Hwin and I, and I suppose, if you're running away to Narnia you want to be one too. In that case Hwin isn't your horse any longer. One might just as well say you're her human.

Grief. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal.

Good beats upon the damned incessantly as sound waves beat on the ears of the deaf, but they cannot receive it. Their fists are clenched, their teeth are clenched, their eyes fast shut. First they will not, in the end they cannot, open their hands for gifts, or their mouth for food, or their eyes to see.

Golly,' said Edmund under his breath, 'He's a retired star.

Prosperity knits a man to the world.

We might think that God wanted simply obedience to a set of rules: whereas He really wants people of a particular sort.

I don't want him to live forever, and I know that he's not going to live forever whether I want him to or not.