We Know Well Only What We Are

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

The Arrogance Of Poets Is Only A Defense; Doubt Gnaws The Greatest Among Them; They Need Our Testimony To Escape Despair.

The Temples Of Those Who Deny The Real Presence Are Like Corpses. The Lord Was Taken Away And We Do Not Know Where They Have Laid Him.

To Love Someone Is To See A Miracle Invisible To Others.

The Scapegoat Has Always Had The Mysterious Power Of Unleashing Man's Ferocious Pleasure In Torturing, Corrupting, And Befouling.