The Magician's Nephew (Chronicles of Narnia, #1) (Publication Order, #6)

by C.S. Lewis

It was a Lion. Huge, shaggy, and bright, it stood facing the risen sun. Its mouth was wide open in song

Though its soft pads made no noise, you could feel the earth shake beneath their weight.

“Narnia, Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be divine waters.”

“Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech.”

And Aslan was bigger and more beautiful and more brightly golden and more terrible than he had thought. He dared not look into the great eyes.

“that before the new, clean world I gave you is seven hours old, a force of evil has already entered it; waked and brought hither by this son of Adam.”

For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.

Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good

to one another. But I have to think of hundreds of years in the life of Narnia.

It is my wish to plant in Narnia a tree that she will not dare to approach, and that tree will protect Narnia from her for many years. So this land shall have a long, bright morning before any clouds come over the sun. You must get me the seed from which that tree is to grow.”

whenever he remembered the shining tears in Aslan’s eyes he became sure.

This time he found he could look straight into the Lion’s eyes. He had forgotten his troubles and felt absolutely content.

Their faces had a new expression, especially the King’s. All the sharpness and cunning and quarrelsomeness which he had picked up as a London cabby seemed to have been washed away, and the courage and kindness which

he had always had were easier to see. Perhaps it was the air of the young world that had done it, or talking with Aslan, or both.

But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear

my voice. If I spoke to him, he would hear only growlings and roarings. Oh Adam’s sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good! But I will give him the only gift he is still able to receive.”

And you, Narnians, let it be your first care to guard this Tree, for

it is your Shield. The Witch of whom I told you has fled far away into the North of the world; she will live on there, growing stronger in dark Magic. But while that Tree flourishes she will never come down into Narnia. She dare not come within a hundred miles of the Tree, for its smell, which is joy and life and health to you, is death and horror and despair to her.”

“that is why all the rest are now a horror to her. That is what happens to those who pluck and eat fruits at the wrong time and in the wrong way. The fruit is good, but they loathe it ever after.”

But length of days with an evil heart is only length of misery and already she begins to know it. All get what they want; they do not always like it.”

What I give you now will bring joy. It will not, in your world, give endless life, but it will heal. Go. Pluck her an apple from the Tree.”

It is not certain that some wicked one of your race will not find out a secret as evil as the Deplorable Word and use it to destroy all living things.

He couldn’t bear to have it simply chopped up for firewood, so he had part of the timber made into a wardrobe, which