It Often Happens That What Stares Us

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.

We Have Reached A Crossroads In Human Evolution Where The Only Road Which Leads Forward Is Towards A Common Passion. . . To Continue To Place Our Hopes In A Social Order Achieved By External Violence Would Simply Amount To Our Giving Up All Hope Of Carrying The Spirit Of The Earth To Its Limits.

The End Of The World: The Wholesale Internal Introversion Upon Itself Of The Noosphere, Which Has Simultaneously Reached The Uttermost Limit Of Its Complexity And Its Centrality . . . The Overthrow Of Equilibrium, Detaching The Mind, Furfilled At Last, From Its Material Matrix, So That It Will Henceforth Rest With All Its Weight On God-omega . . . Critical Point Simultaneously Of Emergence And Emersion, Of Maturation And Evasion.

And This Is The Best Success I Can Dream For My Life: To Have Spread A New Vision Of The World.

At The Heart Of Our Universe, Each Soul Exists For God, In Our Lord.