“For when is the child the ideal child in our eyes and to our hearts? Is it not when with gentle hand… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
Where did you get your eyes so blue? Out of the sky as I came through. — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
Whose work is it but your own to open your eyes? But indeed the business of the universe is to make such… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“Why know the name of a thing when the thing itself you do not know? Whose work is it but your own… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“But, sir, isn't death a dreadful thing?" asked Malcolm. "That depends on whether a man regards it as his fate or as… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“No revelation can be other than partial. If for true revelation a man must be told all the truth, then farewell to revelation; yea,… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
In low theologies, hell is invariably the deepest truth, and the love of God is not so deep as hell. — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
The region belonging to the pure intellect is straitened: the imagination labours to extend its territories, to give it room. She sweeps across the… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
Come, then, affliction, if my Father wills, and be my frowning friend. A friend that frowns is better than a smiling enemy. — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
Ah, what is it we send up thither, where our thoughts are either a dissonance or a sweetness and a grace? — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
You must learn to be strong in the dark as well as in the day, else you will always be only half brave. — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.” — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“You have tasted of death now,” said the old man. “Is it good?” “It is good,” said Mossy. “It is better than life.” “No,”… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
“I wish I had [made that song]. No, I don't That would be to take it from somebody else. But it's mine for all… — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk. — George MacDonald Copy Share Image
![“I wish I had [made that song]. No, I don't That would be to take it from somebody else. But it's mine for all that.' 'What makes it yours?' 'I love it so.' 'Does loving a thing make it yours?' 'I think so, Mother -- at least more than anything else can. . . . Love makes the only myness,' said…” quote by George MacDonald](https://sms4smile.com/quotes/img-quotes/722/george-macdonald-295_love_i-wish-i-had-made-that-song-no-i-don-t-t_35103.jpg)
