Heart of my heart, the world is young; Love lies hidden in every rose!

Oh, grown-ups cannot understand, And grown-ups never will, How short the way to fairyland Across the purple hill.

There’s a magic in the distance, where the sea-line meets the sky.

Happy, happy, happy for all that God hath done, Glad of all the little leaves dancing in the sun.

Beauty is a fading flower,Truth is but a wizard's tower,Where a solemn death-bell tolls,And a forest round it rolls.

Only in souls the Christ is brought to birth, And there He lives and dies.

Outlawed, but not alone, for Love Is outlawed, too. You cannot banish us, proud world: We banish you.

Luke associates John with Peter in Acts, when, after the Resurrection, that strange boldness had come upon the disciples.

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

Bring the buds of the hazel-copse, Where two lovers kissed at noon; Bring the crushed red wild-thyme tops Where they murmured under the moon.

If ever I had any doubts about the fundamental realities of religion, they could always be dispelled by one memory- the light upon my father's face as he came back from early communion.

He loved words, and he would admit that he was playing with them all the time. He was obsessive about the rhythm of the sentence, and would add a word, subtract a word. [about Truman Capote]

Good things come to those who love

Life is a simple straight line between birth and death. The problem is you only realize it at the end of the line.

I have one aim only: to impart a fraction of the meaning of the word now.

True unalienable rights do not require one to trample other unalienable rights.

In Science we have been reading only the notes to a poem; in Christianity we find the poem itself.

I want to try to keep my life the same.

There is nothing wrong with a writer who has a distinct style in book after book, but I am not interested in repeating myself.

If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack, You may get a bland smile from these sages; But should it, by chance, be imported from France, Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.