This God Who, As The Psalmist Said,

A Writer Is Essentially A Man Who Does Not Resign Himself To Loneliness.

It Seems That, After Nineteen Centuries Of Extraordinary Glorification, The Small Host For Which So Many Cathedrals Have Sprung Up, The Small Host That Has Rested In Millions Of Breasts And That Has Found A Tabernacle And Worshippers Even In The Desert - It Seems That The Triumphant Host Of Lourdes And The Eucharistic Congresses Of Chicago And Carthage Remains As Unknown, As Secret As When It Appeared For The First Time In A Room In Jerusalem. Light Is In The World As In The Days Of St. John The Baptist, And The World Does Not Know It

There Is No Accident In Our Choice Of Reading. All Our Sources Are Related.

Doubt Is Nothing But A Trivial Agitation On The Surface Of The Soul, While Deep Down There Is A Calm Certainty.

A Cemetery Saddens Us Because It Is The Only Place Of The World In Which We Do Not Meet Our Dead Again.