We Know Well Only What We Are

No Love, No Friendship, Can Cross The Path Of Our Destiny Without Leaving Some Mark On It Forever.

That Is The Mystery Of Grace: It Never Comes Too Late.

Where Does Discipline End? Where Does Cruelty Begin? Somewhere Between These, Thousands Of Children Inhabit A Voiceless Hell.

The Eucharist Engages Us Unreservedly; It Is A Pact Of Love, An Alliance Signed In The Deeper Recesses Of Our Being. All Our Potentialities Are Called Upon To Warrant The Protection And Fulfillment Of This Pact.

What I Fear Is Not Being Forgotten After My Death, But, Rather, Not Being Enough Forgotten. As We Were Saying, It Is Not Our Books That Survive, But Our Poor Lives That Linger In The Histories.