There Are No Ordinary People. You Have

I Never Exactly Made A Book. It's Rather Like Taking Dictation. I Was Given Things To Say.

But No One Except Lucy Knew That As It Circled The Mast It Had Whispered To Her, "courage, Dear Heart," And The Voice, She Felt Sure, Was Aslan's, And With The Voice A Delicious Smell Breathed In Her Face.

The Story Itself Should Force Its Moral Upon You. You Find Out What The Moral Is By Writing The Story.

Selfishness Has Never Been Admired.

Most People, If They Had Really Learned To Look Into Their Own Hearts, Would Know That They Do Want, And Want Acutely, Something That Cannot Be Had In This World. There Are All Sorts Of Things In This World That Offer To Give It To You, But They Never Quite Keep Their Promise.