George MacDonald
George MacDonald
George MacDonaldwas a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister. He was a pioneering figure in the field of fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow writer Lewis Carroll. His writings have been cited as a major literary influence by many notable authors including W. H. Auden, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Walter de la Mare, E. Nesbit and Madeleine L'Engle. C. S. Lewis wrote that he regarded MacDonald as his "master": "Picking up a copy of Phantastes one...
NationalityScottish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth10 December 1824
The ideal is the only absolute real; and it must become the real in the individual life as well, however impossible they may count it who never tried it.
No one is likely to remember what is entirely uninteresting to him.
The region of the senses is the unbelieving part of the human soul.
Light-leaved acacias, by the door, Stood up in balmy air, Clusters of blossomed moonlight bore, And breathed a perfume rare.
Timely service, like timely gifts, is doubled in value.
Every soul has a landscape that changes with the wind that sweeps the sky, with the clouds that return after its rain.
It needs brains to be a real fool.
Oh the folly of any mind that would explain God before obeying Him! That would map out the character of God instead of crying, Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?
A true friend is forever a friend.
But there are not a few who would be indignant at having their belief in God questioned, who yet seem greatly to fear imagining Him better than He is.
They are not the best students who are most dependent on books. What can be got out of them is at best only material; a man must build his house for himself.
I've been a Danish prince, a Texas slave-dealer, an Arab sheik, a Cheyenne Dog Soldier, and a Yankee navy lieutenant in my time, among other things, and none of 'em was as hard to sustain as my lifetime's impersonation of a British officer and gentleman.
The two pillars of 'political correctness' are, a) willful ignorance, and b) a steadfast refusal to face the truth.
Looking back over sixty-odd years, life is like a piece of string with knots in it, the knots being those moments that live in the mind forever, and the intervals being hazy, half-recalled times when I have a fair idea of what was happenng, in a general way, but cannot be sure of dates or places or even the exact order in which events took place.