Where Were The Saints To Try To

We Must Talk About Poverty, Because People Insulated By Their Own Comfort Lose Sight Of It.

Women Think With Their Whole Bodies And They See Things As A Whole More Than Men Do.

Most Of Our Life Is Unimportant, Filled With Trivial Things From Morning Till Night. But When It Is Transformed By Love It Is Of Interest Even To The Angels.

Advent Is A Time Of Waiting, Of Expectation, Of Silence. Waiting For Our Lord To Be Born. A Pregnant Woman Is So Happy, So Content. She Lives In Such A Garment Of Silence, And It Is As Though She Were Listening To Hear The Stir Of Life Within Her. One Always Hears That Stirring Compared To The Rustling Of A Bird In The Hand. But The Intentness Which Which One Awaits Such Stirring Is Like Nothing So Much As A Blanket Of Silence.

We Are Not, Most Of Us, Capable Of Exalted Emotion, Save Rarely.