I love the idea of bringing order out of disorder which is what the mystery is about. I like the way in which it affirms the sanity of human life and exorcises irrational guilts.
Human kindness is like a defective tap, the first gush may be impressive but the stream soon dries up.
What was so terrible about grief was not grief itself, but that one got over it.
If you are proposing to commit a sin it is as well to commit it with intelligence. Otherwise you are insulting God as well as defying Him, don't you think?
the most successful marriages were always based on both partners feeling that they had done rather well for themselves.
I thought of inviting you to my other club but you know how it is. Lunching there is a useful way of reminding people that you're still alive, but the members will come up and congratulate you on the fact.
Can we ever break free of the devices and desires of our own hearts? Might not our conscience be telling us what we most want to hear?
All these problems [deciding cases] are easier for people who believe in God. Those of us who don't or can't have to do the best we can. That's what the law is, the best we can do. Human justice is imperfect, but it's the only justice we have.
Youth goes caparisoned in immortality.
The equally is a political theory, but no a practical politics.
You never forget the people who were kind to you in childhood, do you, sir?
Great literature cannot grow from a neglected or impoverished soil. Only if we actually tend or care will it transpire that every hundred years or so we might get a Middlemarch.
[My father and his friends] believed in equality for women without troubling to acquire the basic domestic skills which would have made that equality possible.
The tragedy of loss is not that we grieve, but that we cease to grieve, and then perhaps the dead are dead at last.
If all power corrupts, then a doctor, who literally holds life and death in his hands, must be at particular risk.
The world is full of people who have lost faith: politicians who have lost faith in politics, social workers who have lost faith in social work, schoolteachers who have lost faith in teaching and, for all I know, policemen who have lost faith in policing and poets who have lost faith in poetry. It's a condition of faith that it gets lost from time to time, or at least mislaid.
Old age makes caricatures of us all.
I am fifty years old and I have never known what it is to love. I can write those words, know them to be true, but feel only the regret that a tone-deaf man must feel because he can't appreicate music, a regret less keen because it is for something never known, not for something lost.
A man who lives with nature is used to violence and is companionable with death. There is more violence in an English hedgerow than in the meanest streets of a great city.
We are often more merciful to our animals than we are to each other.
It was reasonable to struggle, to suffer, perhaps even to die, for a more just, a more compassionate society, but not in a world with no future where, all to soon, the very words "justice," "compassion," "society," "struggle," "evil," would be unheard echoes on an empty air.
Absolute nakedness was intrusive, confusing to the senses. Paradoxically, it both revealed and diminished identity.
Of all the things that human beings did together, the sexual act was the one with the most various of reasons.
Every island to a child is a treasure island.
If this were fiction, could even the most brilliant novelist contrive to make credible so short a period in which pride had been subdued and prejudice overcome?
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