“Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one centre of pain.”

“And the seasons they go 'round and 'roundAnd the painted ponies go up and downWe're captive on the carousel of timeWe can't return we can only look behindFrom where we cameAnd go round and round and roundIn the circle game.”

“And the seasons they go'round and'roundAnd the painted ponies go up and downWe're captive on the carousel of timeWe can't return we can only look behindFrom where we cameAnd go round and round and roundIn the circle game”

“Human pain does not let go of its grip at one point in time. Rather it works its way out of our consciousness over time. There is a season of sadness. A season of tranquility. A season of hope.”

“There are times when we suffer innocently at other people’s hands. When that occurs, we are victims of injustice. But that injustice happens on a horizontal plane. No one ever suffers injustice on the vertical plane. That is, no one ever suffers unjustly in terms of his or her relationship with God. As long as we bear the guilt of sin, we cannot protest that God is unjust in allowing us to suffer.”

“For all his pain, he longed to see the author of it. Although he hated Margaret at times, when he thought of that gentle familiar attitude and all the attendant circumstances, he had a restless desire to renew her picture in his mind - a longing for the very atmosphere she breathed. He was in the Charybdis of passion, and must perforce circle and circle ever nearer round the fatal centre.”