We live for books.
We shall build on. On through the cynic
Nobody worries about Christ as long as he can be kept shut up in churches. He is quite safe inside. But there is always trouble if you try and let him out.
If I am a son of God, nothing but God will satisfy my soul; no amount of comfort, no amount of ease, no amount of pleasure, will give me peace or rest. If I had the full cup of all the world's joys held up to me, and could drain it to the dregs, I should still remain thirsty if I had not God.
War is only glorious when you buy it in the Daily Mail and enjoy it at the breakfast table. It goes splendidly with bacon and eggs. Real war is the final limit of damnable brutality, and that’s all there is in it.
We have taught our people to use prayer too much as a means of comfort - not in the original and heroic sense of uplifting, inspiring, strengthening, but in the more modern and baser sense of soothing sorrow, dulling pain, and drying tears - the comfort of the cushion, not the comfort of the Cross.
It's much easier to do and die than it is to reason why.
To put your life in danger from time to time. . . breeds a saneness in dealing with day-to-day trivialities.
Here's to the day when the complete works of Leon Trotsky are published and widely distributed in the Soviet Union. On that day the USSR will have achieved democracy!
That's what we're all doing: paving the way, finding the roles that have the complication instead of the one that's always got it together or the dedicated housewife or the wild one who smokes cigarettes and sleeps with anybody.
It isn't easy to understand the lives of people different from your own.