Isolation Is A Blind Alley....nothing On The

Mankind Is Still Embryonic ... [man Is] The Bud From Which Something More Complicated And More Centered Than Man Himself Should Emerge.

Over Every Living Thing Which Is To Spring Up, To Grow, To Flower, To Ripen During This Day Say Again The Words: This Is My Body. And Over Every Death-force Which Waits In Readiness To Corrode, To Wither, To Cut Down, Speak Again Your Commanding Words Which Express The Supreme Mystery Of Faith: This Is My Blood.

Do Not Forget That The Value And Interest Of Life Is Not So Much To Do Conspicuous Things...as To Do Ordinary Things With The Perception Of Their Enormous Value.

Without You, Without Your Onslaughts, Without Your Uprootings Of Us, We Should Remain All Our Lives Inert, Stagnant, Puerile, Ignorant Both Of Ourselves And Of God. You Who Batter Us And Then Dress Our Wounds, You Who Resist Us And Yield To Us, You Who Wreck And Build, You Who Shackle And Liberate, The Sap Of Our Souls, The Hand Of God, The Flesh Of Christ: It Is You, Matter, That I Bless.

The Reality Of Spirit-matter Is Inevitably Translated Into And Confirmed By A Structure Of The Spirit.