“So far as I can remember there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.”
“I've done all I can doCould I please come with you?Sweet smell of sunshineI remember sometimes”
“Say, ‘Thank you, Phin.’ ”“Oh, please.”“Say, Thank youvery much, Phin. ”“I don’t think so.”“Say, ‘You are a great lover, Phin.’ ”“I’m out of here.”
“My head aches, my eyes burn, my arms and legs have given up, and my face in the mirror has a grayish cast. The bed, across the room, calls in its unmistakable lover's croon, Come to me, come, only I can make you truly happy, oh, how happy I'll make you, don't resist, remember how you moan with pleasure the instant we touch.....”
“But the most obvious fact about praise -- whether of God or anything -- strangely escaped me. I thought of it in terms of compliment, approval, or the giving of honor. I had never noticed that all enjoyment spontaneously overflows into praise. ... The world rings with praise -- lovers praising their mistresses, readers their favorite poet, walkers praising the countryside, players praising their favorite game. ... I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.”