Where the roots of private virtue are diseased, the fruit of public probity cannot but be corrupt.

The ethical manifold, conceived of as unified, furnishes, or rather is, the ideal of the whole.

Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.

To care for anyone else enough to make their problems one's own, is ever the beginning of one's real ethical development.

Admitting the force of these contentions, nevertheless, the custom of meeting together in public assembly for the consideration of the most serious, the most exalted topics of human interest is too vitally precious to be lost.

The human race may be compared to a writer. At the outset a writer has often only a vague general notion of the plan of his work, and of the thought he intends to elaborate. As he proceeds, penetrating his material, laboring to express himself fitly, he lays a firmer grasp on his thought; he finds himself. So the human race is writing its story, finding itself, discovering its own underlying purpose, revising, recasting a tale pathetic often, yet none the less sublime.

No one can fail to see that the power of the Church among large numbers in many communities is today diminishing, or has already ceased.