Every day my conscience makes confession relying on the hope of Your mercy as more to be trusted than its own innocence.

Every visible thing in this world is put in the charge of an angel.

In the Catholic Church, there are many other things which most justly keep me in her bosom. The consent of peoples and nations keeps me in the Church; so does her authority, inaugurated by miracles, nourished by hope, enlarged by love, established by age. The succession of priests keeps me, beginning from the very seat of the Apostle Peter, to whom the Lord, after His resurrection, gave it in charge to feed His sheep (Jn 21:15-19), down to the present episcopate.

What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.

If you believe what you like in the gospels, and reject what you don't like, it is not the gospel you believe, but yourself.

For what am I to myself without You, but a guide to my own downfall?

It is love that asks, that seeks, that knocks, that finds, and that is faithful to what it finds.