I Had Committed Myself: Without Love I'd

Communism, My Friend, Is More Than Marxism, Just As Catholicism Is More Than The Roman Curia. There Is A Mystique As Well As A Politick. Catholics And Communists Have Committed Great Crimes, But At Least They Have Not Stood Aside, Like An Established Society, And Been Indifferent. I Would Rather Have Blood On My Hands Than Water Like Pilate.

One Can't Love Humanity. One Can Only Love People.

Despair Is The Price One Pays For Setting Oneself An Impossible Aim. It Is, One Is Told, The Unforgivable Sin, But It Is A Sin The Corrupt Or Evil Man Never Practices. He Always Has Hope. He Never Reaches The Freezing-point Of Knowing Absolute Failure. Only The Man Of Goodwill Carries Always In His Heart This Capacity For Damnation.

You Think It More Difficult To Turn Air Into Wine Than To Turn Wine Into Blood?.

It's Strange How The Human Mind Swings Back And Forth, From One Extreme To Another. Does Truth Lie At Some Point Of The Pendulum's Swing, At A Point Where It Never Rests, Not In The Dull Perpendicular Mean Where It Dangles In The End Like A Windless Flag, But At An Angle, Nearer One Extreme Than Another? If Only A Miracle Could Stop The Pendulum At An Angle Of Sixty Degrees, One Would Believe The Truth Was There.