—C.S. Lewis
Showing posts with label C.S. Lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label C.S. Lewis. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
"The books or music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them: it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of the worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news form a country we have never yet visited."
Labels:
beauty,
C.S. Lewis,
desire,
literature,
music,
nature,
perspective,
poetry
Monday, October 04, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Friday, February 10, 2006
Friday, April 22, 2005
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