A miscellaneous assortment of poems and things

Good ol’ C.S. Lewis. From ‘The Great Divorce’…

‘Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants.  Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from the love of the thing he tells, to the love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about him. For it doesn’t stop with being interested in paint you know.  They sink lower- become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations.’ […]

‘Of course’ said the Ghost, as if speaking to itself, ‘there’ll always be interesting people to meet…’ [in Heaven…]
‘But they aren’t distinguished - no more than anyone else.  Don’t you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light’s the thing.’