The Child In Us Is

Our Home, Our Special Country, Is For All Of Us The Place Where We Find Liberation; A Very Difficult Word ... That Tries To Describe Something That Can't Be Described But Is The Only Thing Worth Having.

...there Began To Come To Her A First Dim Realization Of God's Humility. Rejected By The Proud In His Own Right By What Humble Means He Chose To Succor Them; Through The Spirit Of A Child, A Poor Gypsy Or An Old Man, By A Song Perhaps, Or Even It Might Be By The Fall Of A Leaf Or The Scent Of A Flower. For His Infinite And Humble Patience Nothing Was Too Small To Advance His Purpose Of Salvation And Eternity Was Not Too Long For Its Accomplishment.

I Doubt If We Nuns Are Really As Self-sacrificing As We Must Seem To Be To You Who Live In The World. We Don't Give Everything For Nothing, You Know. The Mystery Plays Fair.

Jean Was Visited By One Of Her Rare Moments Of Happiness, One Of Those Moments When The Goodness Of God Was So Real To Her That It Was Like Taste And Scent; The Rough Strong Taste Of Honey In The Comb And The Scent Of Water. Her Thoughts Of God Had A Homeliness That At Times Seemed Shocking, In Spite Of Their Power, Which Could Rescue Her From Terror Or Evil With An Ease That Astonished Her.

Autumn Days Have A Holiness That Spring Lacks ... They Are Like Old Serene Saints For Whom Death Has Lost Its Terror.