I Never Exactly Made A Book. It's

The Moral Law Tells Us The Tune We Have To Play: Our Instincts Are Merely The Keys.

Though I Do Not Believe That My Desire For Paradise Proves That I Shall Enjoy It, I Think It A Pretty Good Indication That Such A Thing Exists And That Some Men Will.

Humour Is...the All-consoling And...the All-excusing, Grace Of Life.

That Part Of Rostrevor Which Overlooks Carlingford Lough Is My Idea Of Narnia.

And In Truth (as I Now See) I Had The Wish To Put Off My Journey As Long As I Could. Not For Any Peril Or Labour It Might Cost; But Because I Could See Nothing In The Whole World For Me To Do Once It Was Accomplished. As Long As This Act Lay Before Me, There Was, As It Were, Some Barrier Between Me And The Dead Desert Which The Rest Of My Life Must Be.