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“Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand. Unless, of course, you can literally believe all that stuff about family reunions 'on the further shore,' pictured in entirely earthly terms. But that is all unscriptural, all out of bad hymns and lithographs. There's not a word of it in the Bible. And it rings false. We know it couldn't be like that. Reality never repeats. The exact same thing is never taken away and given back. How well the Spiritualists bait their hook! 'Things on this side are not so different after all.' There are cigars in Heaven. For that is what we should all like. The happy past restored.”

“In the same way, if a man asks what is the point of behaving decently, it is no good replying, "in order to benefit society," for trying to benefit society, in other words being unselfish (for "society" after all only means "other people"), is one of the things decent behaviour consists in; all you are really saying is that decent behaviour is decent behaviour. You would have said just as much if you had stopped at the statement, "Men ought to be unselfish.”

“You first taught me the great principle "Begin where you are." I had thought one had to start by summoning up what we believe about the goodness and greatness of God, by thinking about creation and redemption and "all the blessings of this life." You turned to the brook and once more splashed your burning face and hands in the little waterfall and said, "Why not begin with this?" And it worked. Apparently you have never guessed how much. That cushiony moss, that coldness and sound and dancing light were no doubt the very minor blessings compared with "the means of grace and the hope of glory." But then they were manifest. So far as they were concerned, sight had replaced faith. They were not the hope of glory, they were an exposition of the glory itself." Yet you were not - or so it seemed - telling me that "Nature," or "the beauties of Nature," manifest the glory. No such abstraction as "Nature" comes into it. I was learning the far more secret doctrine that pleasures are shafts of the glory as it strikes our sensibility. As it impinges on our will or understanding, we give it different names - goodness or truth or the like. But its flash upon our senses and mood is pleasure.”

“People are merely "amusing themselves" by asking for the patience which a famine or a persecution would call for if, in the meantime, the weather and every other inconvenience sets them grumbling. One must learn to walk before one can run. So here. We - or at least I - shall not be able to adore God on the highest occasions if we have learned no habit of doing so on the lowest. At best, our faith and reason will tell us that He is adorable, but we shall not have found Him so, no have "tasted and seen." Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are "patches of Godlight" in the woods of our experience.”

“A vocation is a terrible thing. To be called out of nature into the supernatural life is at first (or perhaps not quite at first - the wrench of the parting may be felt later) a costly honour. Even to be called from one natural level to another is loss as well as gain. Man has difficulties and sorrows which the other primates escape. But to be called up higher still costs still more.”

“Low down and near the horizon hung a great, red sun, far bigger than our sun. Digory felt at once that it was also older than ours: a sun near the end of its life, weary of looking down upon that world. To the left of the sun, and higher up, there was a single star, big and bright. Those were the only two things to be seen in the dark sky; they made a dismal group. And on the earth, in every direction, as far as the eye could reach, there spread a vast city in which there was no living thing to be seen. And all the temples, towers, palaces, pyramids, and bridges cast long, disastrous-looking shadows in the light of that withered sun. Once a great river had flowed through the city, but the water had long since vanished, and it was now only a wide ditch of grey dust. "Look well on that which no eyes will ever see again," said the Queen. "Such was Charn, that great city, the city of the King of Kings, the wonder of the world, perhaps of all worlds. Does your uncle rule any city as great as this, boy?" "No," said Digory. He was going to explain that Uncle Andrew didn't rule any cities, but the Queen went on: "It is silent now. But I have stood here when the whole air was full of the noises of Charn; the trampling of feet, the creaking of wheels, the cracking of the whips and the groaning of slaves, the thunder of chariots, and the sacrificial drums beating in the temples. I have stood here (but that was near the end) when the roar of battle went up from every street and the river of Charn ran red." She paused and added, "All in one moment one woman blotted it out forever." "Who?" said Digory in a faint voice; but he had already guessed the answer. "I," said the Queen. "I, Jadis, the last Queen, but the Queen of the World.”

“Why do I make room in my mind for such filth and nonsense? Do I hope that if feeling disguises itself as thought I shall feel less? Aren't all these notes the senseless writhings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it? Who still thinks there is some device (if only he could find it) which will make pain not to be pain. It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.”

“The sensible women who, if they wanted, would certainly be able to qualify themselves for the world of discussion and ideas, are precisely those who, if they are not qualified, never try to enter it or to destroy it. They have other fish to fry. At a mixed party they gravitate to one end of the room and talk women’s talk to one another. They don’t want us, for this sort of purpose, any more than we want them. It is only the riff-raff of each sex that wants to be incessantly hanging on the other. Live and let live. They laugh at us a good deal. That is just as it should be. Where the sexes, having no real shared activities, can meet only in Affection and Eros— cannot be Friends—it is healthy that each should have a lively sense of the other’s absurdity. Indeed it is always healthy. No one ever really appreciated the other sex—just as no one really appreciates children Friendship or animals—without at times feeling them to be funny. For both sexes are. Humanity is tragi-comical; but the division into sexes enables each to see in the other the joke that often escapes it in itself—and the pathos too.”

“The Devil and his angels have... persuad[ed]... humans that a curious, and usually short-lived, experience which they call "being in love" is the only respectable ground for marriage; that marriage can, and ought to, render this excitement permanent; and that a marriage which does not do so is no longer binding. This idea [comes from their] parody of an idea that came from [God]... Things are to be many, yet somehow also one. The good of one self is to be the good of another. This... He calls Love, and this... can be detected under all He does and even all He is... He introduces into matter... the organism, in which the parts are [set at odds with] their natural destiny of competition and made to cooperate... In... humans [God] has... associated affection between the parties with sexual desire. He has also made the offspring dependent on the parents and given the parents an impulse to support it-thus producing the Family, which is like the organism, [but] the members are more distinct, yet also united in a more conscious and responsible way... [Heavenly Father] described a married couple as "one flesh." He did not say "a happily married couple" or "a couple who married because they were in love"...”

“The use of fashions in thought is to distract men from their real dangers. We direct the fashionable outcry of each generation against those vices of which it is in the least danger, and fix its approval on the virtue that is nearest the vice which we are trying to make endemic. The game is to have them all running around with fire extinguishers whenever there’s a flood; and all crowding to that side of the boat which is already nearly gone under.”

“Let me implore the reader to try to believe, if only for a moment, that God, who made these deserving people, may really be right when He thinks that their modest prosperity and the happiness of their children are not enough to make them blessed: that all this must fall from them in the end, and if they have not learned to know Him they will be wretched. And therefore He troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover. The life to themselves and their families stands between them and the recognition of their need; He makes that life less sweet to them. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is 'nothing better' now to be had.”

“Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side. That stroke never reached the Wolf. Quick as lightning it turned round, its eyes flaming, and its mouth wide open in a howl of anger. If it had not been so angry that it simply had to howl it would have got him by the throat at once. As it was—though all this happened too quickly for Peter to think at all—he had just time to duck down and plunge his sword, as hard as he could, between the brute's forelegs into its heart. Then came a horrible, confused moment like something in a nightmare. He was tugging and pulling and the Wolf seemed neither alive nor dead, and its bared teeth knocked against his forehead, and everything was blood and heat and hair. A moment later he found that the monster lay dead and he had drawn his sword out of it and was straightening his back and rubbing the sweat off his face and out of his eyes. He felt tired all over. Then, after a bit, Susan came down the tree. She and Peter felt pretty shaky when they met and I won't say there wasn't kissing and crying on both sides. But in Narnia no one thinks any the worse of you for that.”

“Already, less than a month after her death, I can feel the slow, insidious beginning of a process that will make the H. I think of into a more and more imaginary woman. Founded on fact, no doubt. I shall put in nothing fictitious (or I hope I shan't). But won't the composition inevitably become more and more my own? The reality is no longer there to check me, to pull me up short, as the real H. so often did, so unexpectedly, by being so thoroughly herself and not me.”

“The truth is that wherever a man lies with a woman there, whether they like it or not, a transcendental relation is set up between them which must be eternally enjoyed or eternally endured. From the true statement that this transcendental relation was intended to produce, and, if obediently entered into, too often will produce, affection and the family, humans can be made to infer the false belief that the blend of affection, fear, and desire which they call 'being in love' is the only thing that makes marriage either happy or holy.”

“I suppose the mere fact of being walled in gave the Wood part of its peculiar quality, for when a thing is enclosed the mind does not willingly regard it as common. As I went forward over the quiet turf I had the sense of being received. The trees were just so wide apart that one saw uninterrupted foliage in the distance, but the place where one stood seemed always to be a clearing: surrounded by a world of shadows, one walked in mild sunshine. Except for the sheep whose nibbling kept the grass so short and who sometimes raised their long, foolish faces to stare at me, I was quite alone; and it felt more like the loneliness of a very large room in a deserted house than like any ordinary solitude out of doors. I remember thinking, "This is the sort of place which, as a child, one would have been rather afraid of or else would have liked very much indeed." A moment later I thought, "But when alone--really alone--everyone is a child: or no one?" Youth and age touch only the surface of our lives.”

“If we are to use the words ‘childish’ and ‘infantile’ as terms of disapproval, we must make sure that they refer only to those characteristics of childhood which we become better and happier by outgrowing. Who in his sense would not keep, if he could, that tireless curiosity, that intensity of imagination, that facility of suspending disbelief, that unspoiled appetite, that readiness to wonder, to pity, and to admire?”

“For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which, in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and even grandchildren) and turns it back; sends the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides. And this harem, once admitted, works against his ever getting out and really uniting with a real woman. For the harem is always accessible, always subservient, calls for no sacrifices or adjustments, and can be endowed with erotic and psychological attractions which no woman can rival. Among those shadowy brides he is always adored, always the perfect lover; no demand is made on his unselfishness, no mortification ever imposed on his vanity. In the end, they become merely the medium through which he increasingly adores himself…After all, almost the main work of life is to come out of our selves, out of the little dark prison we are all born in. Masturbation is to be avoided as all things are to be avoided which retard this process. The danger is that of coming to love the prison.”

“Now, it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, [God] relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favorites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else... It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be... He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles.”

“When lovers say of some act that we might blame, "Love made us do it," notice the tone. A man saying, "I did it because I was frightened," or "I did it because I was angry," speaks quite differently. He is putting forward an excuse for what he feels to require excusing. But the lovers are seldom doing quite that. Notice how tremulously, almost how devoutly, they say the word love, not so much pleading an "extenuating circumstance" as appealing to an authority. The confession can be almost a Boast. There can be a shade of defiance in it. They "feel like martyrs". In extreme cases what their words really express is a demure yet unshakable allegiance to the god of love.”

“The Christian says, 'Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same.”

“Pero esa no era la verdadera Narnia. Esa tenía un principio y un fin. Era sólo la sombra o la copia de la verdadera Narnia, que siempre ha estado aquí y siempre estará aquí: igual que nuestro mundo, Inglaterra y todo lo demás, es sólo una sombra o una copia de algo en el verdadero mundo de Aslan. No tienes que Llorar por Narnia, Lucía (...) “Todo esto lo ha dicho Platón, todo lo ha dicho Platón; Dios me ampare, ¡qué les enseñan en esos colegios!", los mayores rompieron a reír. Era tan exactamente igual a lo que le habían escuchado decir hacía tanto tiempo en aquel otro mundo donde su barba era gris en vez de dorada. Él comprendió por qué se reían y se puso a reír también. Pero muy pronto se pusieron serios otra vez: porque, como tú sabes, hay una clase de felicidad y de admiración que te hace ponerte serio. Es demasiado buena para malgastarla en chistes (...) La diferencia entre la antigua Narnia y la nueva Narnia era así. La nueva era una tierra más profunda: cada roca y cada flor y cada brizna de pasto parecía significar más. No puedo describirla mejor que eso. Si algún día llegas a ella, entenderás lo que quiero decir.”

“De acuerdo con las líneas sugeridas por san Agustín, no hay escapatoria. Ni tampoco de acuerdo con otras líneas. No hay inversión segura. Amar, de cualquier manera, es ser vulnerable. Basta con que amemos algo para que nuestro corazón, con seguridad, se retuerza, y posiblemente se rompa. Si uno quiere estar seguro de mantenerlo intacto, no debe dar su corazón a nadie, ni siquiera a un animal. Hay que rodearlo cuidadosamente de caprichos y de pequeños lujos; evitar todo compromiso; guardarlo a buen recaudo bajo llave en el cofre o en el ataúd de nuestro egoísmo. Pero en ese cofre —seguro, oscuro, inmóvil, sin aire— cambiará, no se romperá, se volverá irrompible, impenetrable, irredimible. La alternativa de la tragedia, o al menos del riesgo de la tragedia, es la condenación. El único sitio, aparte del Cielo, donde se puede estar perfectamente a salvo de todos los peligros y perturbaciones del amor es el Infierno.”

“No hay necesidad de preocuparse por los bromistas que intentan ridiculizar la idea del «Cielo» cristiano diciendo que no quieren «pasarse el resto de la eternidad tocando el arpa». La respuesta a esas personas es que si no pueden comprender libros escritos para personas mayores no deberían hablar de ellos. Toda la imaginería de las Escrituras (arpas, coronas, oro, etc.) es, por supuesto, un intento meramente simbólico de expresar lo inexpresable. La gente que toma estos símbolos literalmente bien puede creer que cuando Cristo nos dijo que fuéramos como palomas quería decir que debíamos poner huevos.”

“Gran parte de una desgracia cualquiera consiste, por así decirlo, en la sombra de la desgracia, en la reflexión sobre ella. Es decir en el hecho de que no se limite uno a sufrir, sino que se vea obligado a seguir considerando el hecho de que sufre. Yo cada uno de mis días interminables no solamente lo vivo en pena, sino pensando en lo que es vivir en pena un día detrás de otro.”

“Si de repente «sufrir en vez de ella» se convirtiera en una posibilidad real, entonces por primera vez nos daríamos cuenta de la importancia de su significado. ¿Se nos ha permitido esto alguna vez? Se le permitió a una Persona (Jesucristo), según nos han contado, y me doy cuenta de que ahora puedo volver a creer que Él hizo en nombre de otro todo lo que es posible hacer en ese sentido. Y Él contesta a nuestro balbuceo: «No puedes y no te atreves. Yo pude y me atrevi.»”

“¿Cómo podía ser al mismo tiempo el Dios que todo lo sabía y el hombre que preguntaba a sus discípulos «¿Quién me ha tocado»? Yo sugiero que en realidad, y es una verdad intemporal acerca de Dios, la naturaleza humana, y la experiencia humana de la debilidad o el sueño o la ignorancia, quedó de algún modo incluida en la totalidad de Su vida divina. Esta vida humana de Dios es, desde nuestro punto de vista, un período particular en la historia de nuestro mundo (desde el año 1. DC hasta la Crucifixión) Por lo tanto, imaginamos que es también un período en la historia de la propia existencia de Dios. Pero Dios no tiene historia. Es demasiado definitivamente y totalmente real para tenerla. Puesto que, naturalmente, tener una historia significa perder parte de tu realidad (porque ésta ya se ha deslizado en el pasado) y no tener todavía otra parte (porque aún sigue en el futuro), de hecho, no tienes más que el mínimo presente, que ha desaparecido antes de que puedas hablar de él.”

“Todos los días son «ahora» para Dios. Dios no recuerda que hicierais nada ayer; sencillamente os ve hacerlo, porque, aunque vosotros hayáis perdido el ayer, Él no. Él no os «prevé» haciendo cosas mañana; sencillamente os ve hacerlas, porque, aunque mañana aún no ha llegado para vosotros, para Él sí. Nunca suponéis que vuestras acciones en este momento serían menos libres porque Dios ve lo que estáis haciendo. Pues bien; Él ve vuestras acciones de mañana del mismo modo, porque Él ya está en el mañana, sencillamente mirándoos. En un sentido, Él no ve vuestra acción hasta que la habéis hecho; pero claro, el momento en que la habéis hecho es ya el «ahora» para Él.”

“En el acto mismo de intentar demostrar que Dios no existía —en otras palabras, que toda la realidad carecía de sentido— descubrí que me veía forzado a asumir que una parte de la realidad — específicamente mi idea de la justicia— estaba llena de sentido. En consecuencia, el ateísmo resulta ser demasiado simple. Si todo el universo carece de significado, jamás nos habríamos dado cuenta de que carece de significado, del mismo modo que, si no hubiera luz en el universo, y por lo tanto ninguna criatura tuviese ojos, jamás habríamos sabido que el universo estaba a oscuras. La palabra oscuridad no tendría significado.”