One of the great advantages of the study of old Norse or Icelandic literature is the insight given by it into the origin of world-wide superstitions. Norse tradition is transparent as glacier ice, and its origin is as unmistakable.

I went to Iceland in 1861 and went over nearly every bit of the ground made famous by the adventures of Grettir.

Incontestably, the great centres of population in the primeval ages were the chalklands, and next to them those of limestone. The chalk first, for it furnished man with flints, and the limestone next when he had learned to barter.

The fold is that place where He keeps His flock shut behind the hurdles of the Ten Commandments. Every now and then, a sheep leaps one of these hurdles or pushes his way between them and runs away into forbidden pastures. Then the Good Shepherd goes after the erring sheep and brings it back.

Faith is not a product of reflection, nor is it even an attempt to penetrate the depths of my own being.

It's pretty hard to tell what does bring happiness; poverty and wealth have both failed.

As an actor, you usually live your life with faith.

A dog barks when his master is attacked. I would be a coward if I saw that God's truth is attacked and yet would remain silent.