Clive Lewis quotes
It costs God nothing, so far as we know, to create nice things: but to convert rebellious wills cost Him crucifixion.
It costs God nothing, so far as we know, to create nice things: but to convert rebellious wills cost Him crucifixion.
You know what this is, I suppose. Religious melancholia. Stop while there is time. If you dive, you dive into insanity.
Woe to those who lead idle lives. Idleness is a dreadful illness and must be cured in childhood. If it is not cured then, it can never be cured.
Woe to the lazy man! Laziness is an evil disease which you must not let seize you in childhood, for when you grow up it cannot be cured. Chapter 25
In the Land of Toys, every day, except Sunday, is a Saturday. Vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the last day of December. That is the place for me! All countries should be like it! How happy we should all be!
A conscience is that still small voice that people won't listen to.
Most unfortunately, in the lives of puppets there is always a 'but' that spoils everything.
When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish.
This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.
I'll give you three guesses, Rabbit. Digging holes in the ground? Wrong. Leaping from branch to branch of a young oak tree? Wrong. Waiting for somebody to help me out of the river? Right. Give Rabbit time, and he'll always get the answer.
And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.
If there's a buzzing-noise, somebody's making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you're a bee.
Independence is all very well, but we animals never allow our friends to make fools of themselves beyond a certain limit; and that limit you've reached
Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now is, there was a city - a city of people, you know
There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much
The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all the usual lot, good, bad, and indifferent--I name no names. It takes all sorts to make a world.
There was the noise of a bolt shot back, and the door opened a few inches, enough to show a long snout and a pair of sleepy blinking eyes.
Weasels--and stoats--and foxes--and so on. They're all right in a way--I'm very good friends with them--pass the time of day when we meet, and all that--but they break out sometimes, there's no denying it, and then--well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact.