slow, drawling kind of way,
'I--can't--exactly--say--I--love it,--_but--I--respect--it!_'"

THE WISDOM OF G.K.C.
[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_]

Jesus Christ made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. But Omar makes
it, not a sacrament, but a medicine. He feasts because life is not
joyful; he revels because he is not glad. "Drink," he says, "for you
know not whence you come nor why. Drink, for you know not when you go
nor where. Drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a
humming-top. Drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing
worth fighting for. Drink, because all things are lapsed in a base
equality and an evil peace." So he stands offering us the cup in his
hands. And in the high altar of Christianity stands another figure in
whose hand also is the cup of the vine. "Drink," he says, "for the whole
world is as red as this wine with the crimson of the love and wrath of
God. Drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle, and this is the
stirrup-cup. Drink, for this is My blood of the New Testament that is
shed for you. Drink, for I know whence you come and why. Drink, for I
know when you go and where."--"Heretics."

[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_]

Everything is military in the sense that everything depends upon
obedience. There is no perfectly epicurean corner; there is no perfectly
irresponsible place. Everywhere men have made the way for us with sweat
and submission. We may fling ourselves into a hammock in a fit of divine
carelessness; but we are glad that the net-maker did not make the net in
a fit of divine carelessness. We may jump upon a child's rocking-horse
for a joke; but we are glad that the carpenter did not leave the legs of
it unglued for a joke.--"Heretics."

[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_]

The only way of catching a train I have ever discovered is to miss the
train before.--"Tremendous Trifles."

[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_]

In a hollow of the grey-green hills of rainy Ireland lived an old, old
woman, whose uncle was always Cambridge at the Boat-race. But in her
grey-green hollows, she knew nothing of this; she didn't know that there
was a Boat-race. Also she did not know that she had an uncle. She had
heard of nobody at all, except of George the First, of whom she had
heard (I know not why), and in whose historical memory she put her
simple trust. And by and by, in God's good time, it was discovered that
this uncle of hers was really not her uncle, and