Quotes from Madeleine L'Engle

I suspect that in every good marriage there are times when love seems to be over. Sometimes these desert lines are simply the only way to the next oasis, which is far more lush and beautiful after the desert crossing than it could possibly have been without it.

The important thing is to recognize that our gift, no matter what the size, is indeed something given us, for which we can take no credit, but which we may humbly serve, and, in serving, learn more wholeness, be offered wondrous newness. Picasso says that an artist paints not to ask a question but because he has found something and he wants to share—he cannot help it—what he has found.

You don't know how lucky you are to be loved. Meg said in a startled way, I guess I never thought of that. I guess I just took it for granted.

What is a self-image? Who started talking about one? I rather fancy it was Madison Avenue. Picture Satan in a business suit, with well-groomed horns and a superbly switching tail, sitting at his huge executive's desk, thinking, 'Aha! If I can substitute images for reality I can get a lot more people under my domination.

It is not the vaccinationists but the antivaccinationists who generate zeal. People are zealous for a cause when they are not quite positive that it is true.

Wild nights are my glory

Nothing really important in life is in the realm of provable fact.

He said, "There's a sermon of John Donne's I have often had cause to remember during my lifetime. He says, Other men's crosses are not my crosses. We all have our own cross to carry, and one is all most of us are able to bear. How much do you owe him, Vicky?

Very few of us understand Honorable Bird, except to acknowledge that without his power and grace nothing would be written, painted, or composed at all. To say anything beyond this about the creative process is like pulling all the petals off a flower in order to analyze it, and ending up having destroyed the flower.

People like me spend years learning the techniques of meditation. But you're a poet, and poets are born knowing the language of angels.

If the book will be too difficult for grownups, then you write it for children.

The winter is cold, is cold. All's spent in keeping warm. Has joy been frozen, too? I blow upon my hands Stiff from the biting wind. My heart beats slow, beats slow. What has become of joy? If joy's gone from my heart Then it is closed to You Who made it, gave it life... Elusive, evasive, peace comes Only when it's not sought. Help me forget the cold That grips the grasping world...

With my intellect I see cause for nothing but pessimism and even despair. But I can't settle for what my intellect tells me. That's not all of it...There are still stars which move in ordered and beautiful rhythm. There are still people in this world who keep promises... That's enough to keep my heart optimistic no matter how pessimistic my mind.

There's something a little humiliating about having to accept that, at fifty-one, one is naïve. I am. I would, quite often, like to be grownup, wise, and sophisticated. But these gifts are not mine.

I've looked for an image in someone else's mirror, and so have avoided seeing myself.

Majah, minah, and mediocah.

don't understand it any more than you do, but one thing I've learned is that you don't have to understand things for them to be.

Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future's sakes.

Curled up on one of her pillows a gray fluff of kitten yawned, showing its pink tongue, tucked its head under again, and went back to sleep.

An old ass knows more than a young colt

We are going to your father, Mrs. Which said. But where is he? Meg went over to Mrs. Which and stamped as though she were as young as Charles Wallace. Mrs. Whatsit answered in a voice that was low but quite firm. On a planet that has given in. So you must prepare to be very strong.

Ach,' she heard someone saying, 'I left mein ceinture dans le shower ce morgen. Quelle dope ich bin!

Mr Jenkins. Unique, as every star in the sky is unique, every leaf on every tree, every snowflake, every farandola, every cherubim, unique: Named.

On Camazotz we are all happy because we are all alike. Differences create problems. You know that, don't you, dear sister?