“Nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God.”
―
C.S. Lewis
“Fancy sleeping on air. I wonder if anyone's done it before. I don't suppose they have. Oh, bother—-Scrubb probably has!
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C.S. Lewis
“faith is the art of holding on to things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances.”
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C.S. Lewis
“He died not for men, but for each man. If each man had been the only man made, He would have done no less.”
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C.S. Lewis
“Of Course God does not consider you hopeless. If He did, He would not be moving you to seek Him (and He obviously is)... Continue seeking Him with seriousness. Unless He wanted you, you would not be wanting Him.”
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C.S. Lewis
“The false religion of lust is baser than the false religion of mother-love or patriotism or art: but lust is less likely to be made into a religion.”
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C.S. Lewis
“This wasn't a garden,' said Susan presently. 'It was a castle...”
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C.S. Lewis
“I do not expect old heads on young shoulders.”
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C.S. Lewis
“The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and His compulsion is our liberation.”
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C.S. Lewis
“Then Hwin, though shaking all over, gave a strange little neigh and trotted across to the Lion.
"Please," she said, "you're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else.”
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C.S. Lewis
“Gone! And you and I quite crestfallen. It’s always like that, you can’t keep him; it’s not as if he were a tame lion.”
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C.S. Lewis
“Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago.”
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C.S. Lewis
“As Venus within Eros does not really aim at pleasure, so Eros does not aim at happiness. We may think he does, but when he is brought to the test it proves otherwise... For it is the very mark of Eros that when he is in us we had rather share unhappiness with the Beloved than be happy on any other terms.”
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C.S. Lewis
“Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .”
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C.S. Lewis
“And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief. Except at my job--where the machine seems to run on much as usual--I loath the slightest effort. Not only writing but even reading a letter is too much.”
―
C.S. Lewis
