Elizabeth Goudge

If you lose your

If you lose your reason, you lose it into the hands of God….It’s the only place where anything is safe. And when you’re dead it’s only what’s there you’ll have. Nothing else. Elizabeth Goudge

I\\’ve never been one

I’ve never been one for religion, but yet I’ve never been what ye could call an unbeliever. What I say is, nothin’ don’t seem impossible once you’ve clapped eyes on a whale. Elizabeth Goudge

The elements were \\\”seeking\\\”

The elements were \”seeking\” each other in rage and confusion, and in the fury of the conflict boastful man was utterly humiliated, sucked down, drowned. Elizabeth Goudge

There was a good deal to be said, Hilary decided, for middle age and infirmity. The years in which one demanded much of life were left behind, together with the bitterness of not getting what one wanted. One’s values, too, were altered. Gifts that once one took for granted, sunshine and birdsong, freedom from pain, … Read more

Water, wind and birdsong

Water, wind and birdsong were the echoes in this quiet place of a great chiming symphony that was surging around the world. Knee-deep in grasses and moon daisies, Stella stood and listened, swaying a little as the flowers and trees were swaying, her spirit voice singing loudly, though her lips were still, and every pulse … Read more

I doubt if we

I doubt if we nuns are really as self-sacrificing as we must seem to be to you who live in the world. We don’t give everything for nothing, you know. The mystery plays fair. Elizabeth Goudge

Writers and painters have

Writers and painters have a medium that can foster self-effacements. Actors haven’t. An actor can’t hide himself behind paper or canvas. If you’re not there your art’s not there. That’s why we actors are often such self-centered objects. Elizabeth Goudge

All we are asked

All we are asked to bear we can bear. Elizabeth Goudge

Don\\’t waste hate on

Don’t waste hate on pink geranium. Elizabeth Goudge

…The simple little words

…The simple little words came easily, fitting themselves to the tune that had come out of the harpsichord. It didn’t seem to her that she made them up at all. It seemed to her that they flew in from the rose-garden, through the open window, like a lot of butterflies, poised themselves on the point … Read more