G.K. Chesterton

About G.K. Chesterton

G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) was one of the greatest thinkers and authors of the twentieth century. A major influence on C.S. Lewis, Chesterton authored some one hundred books, two hundred short stories, four thousand newspaper essays, and more—all thought-provoking and often humorous.

“The God in the Cave”

By |2018-12-21T02:55:29-06:00December 24th, 2018|Categories: Christendom, Christianity, Christmas, Existence of God, G.K. Chesterton, Myth, Philosophy, Religion, Truth|

This sketch of the human story began in a cave; the cave which popular science associates with the cave-man and in which practical discovery has really found archaic drawings of animals. The second half of human history, which was like a new creation of the world, also begins in a cave. There is even a [...]

“Lepanto”

By |2017-10-07T14:30:11-05:00October 7th, 2017|Categories: G.K. Chesterton, Poetry|

White founts falling in the courts of the sun, And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run; There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared, It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard, It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips, For the [...]

Heaven Is a Playground

By |2017-09-22T15:45:41-05:00September 20th, 2017|Categories: Civil Society, G.K. Chesterton, Quotation|

"It is not only possible to say a great deal in praise of play; it is really possible to say the highest things in praise of it. It might reasonably be maintained that the true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground. To be at last [...]

“The Shop of Ghosts”

By |2017-12-09T13:23:23-06:00December 22nd, 2016|Categories: Christmas, G.K. Chesterton, Literature|

The man in the shop was very old and broken. When I put down the money, he pushed it feebly away. “No, no,” he said vaguely. “I never have. We are rather old-fashioned here.” “Good heavens!” I said. “What can you mean? Why, you might be Father Christmas.” “I am Father Christmas,” he said [...]

“The House of Christmas”

By |2019-12-26T01:57:48-06:00December 4th, 2016|Categories: G.K. Chesterton, Poetry|

There fared a mother driven forth Out of an inn to roam; In the place where she was homeless All men are at home. The crazy stable close at hand, With shaking timber and shifting sand, Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand Than the square stones of Rome. For men are homesick in [...]

Behind

By |2016-05-31T20:23:24-05:00June 14th, 2015|Categories: Poetry|

I saw an old man like a child, His blue eyes bright, his white hair wild, Who turned for ever, and might not stop, Round and round like an urchin’s top. ‘Fool,’ I cried, ‘while you spin round, ‘Others grow wise, are praised, are crowned.’ Ever the same round road he trod, ‘This is [...]