When we really worship anything, we love not only its clearness but its obscurity. We exult in its very invisibility.

Any one thinking of the Holy Child as born in December would mean by it exactly what we mean by it; that Christ is not merely a summer sun of the prosperous but a winter fire for the unfortunate.

People talk of the pathos and failure of plain women; but it is a more terrible thing that a beautiful woman may succeed in everything but womanhood.

Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this, that by its creed Joy becomes something gigantic, and Sadness something special and small.

The whole order of things is as outrageous as any miracle which could presume to violate it.

If you attempt an actual argument with a modern paper of opposite politics, you will have no answer except slanging or silence.

The rich are the scum of the earth in every country.