It might reasonably be maintained that the true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground. To be at last in such secure innocence that one can juggle with the universe and the stars, to be so good that one can treat everything as a joke - that may be, perhaps, the real end and final holiday of human souls.

My brother, Cecil Edward Chesterton, was born when I was about five years old; and, after a brief pause, began to argue. He continued to argue to the end. I am glad to think that through all those years we never stopped arguing; and we never once quarreled. Perhaps the principal objection to a quarrel is that it interrupts an argument.

A nation that has nothing but its amusements will not be amused for long.

Just at present you only see the tree by the light of the lamp. I wonder when you would ever see the lamp by the light of the tree.

If you'd take your head home and boil it for a turnip it might be useful. I can't say. But it might.

Evil always wins through the strength of its splendid dupes; and there has in all ages been a disastrous alliance between abnormal innocence and abnormal sin.

Freethinkers are occasionally thoughtful, though never free.