I Doubt If We Nuns Are Really

There Always Comes, I Think, A Sort Of Peak In Suffering At Which Either You Win Over Your Pain Or Your Pain Wins Over You, According As To Whether You Can, Or Cannot, Call Up That Extra Ounce Of Endurance That Helps You To Break Through The Circle Of Yourself And Do The Hitherto Impossible. That Extra Ounce Carries You Through 'le Dernier Quart D' Heure.' Psychologist Have A Name For It, I Believe. Christians Call It The Grace Of God.

Nothing Living Should Ever Be Treated With Contempt. Whatever It Is That Lives, A Man, A Tree, Or A Bird, Should Be Touched Gently, Because The Time Is Short. Civilization Is Another Word For Respect For Life.

As This World Becomes Increasingly Ugly, Callous And Materialistic It Needs To Be Reminded That The Old Fairy Stories Are Rooted In Truth, That Imagination Is Of Value, That Happy Endings Do, In Fact, Occur, And That The Blue Spring Mist That Make An Ugly Street Look Beautiful Is Just As Real A Thing As The Street Itself.

Water, Wind And Birdsong Were The Echoes In This Quiet Place Of A Great Chiming Symphony That Was Surging Around The World. Knee-deep In Grasses And Moon Daisies, Stella Stood And Listened, Swaying A Little As The Flowers And Trees Were Swaying, Her Spirit Voice Singing Loudly, Though Her Lips Were Still, And Every Pulse In Her Body Beating Its Hammer Strokes In Time To The Song.

All We Are Asked To Bear We Can Bear.