Commemoration of Albrecht Dürer, artist, 1528, and Michelangelo Buonarrotti, artist, spiritual writer, 1564 It is my opinion that art read more

Commemoration of Albrecht Dürer, artist, 1528, and Michelangelo Buonarrotti, artist, spiritual writer, 1564 It is my opinion that art lost its basic creative drive the moment it was separated from worship. It severed an umbilical cord... In former days the artist remained unknown and his work was to the glory of God... Today the individual has become the highest form and the greatest bane of artistic creation.

There is hardly ever a complete silence in our soul. God is whispering to us well-nigh incessantly. Whenever the sounds read more

There is hardly ever a complete silence in our soul. God is whispering to us well-nigh incessantly. Whenever the sounds of the world die out in the soul, or sink low, then we hear these whisperings of God. He is always whispering to us, only we do not always hear, because of the noise, hurry, and distraction which life causes as it rushes on.

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The Church is her true self only when she exists for read more

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The Church is her true self only when she exists for humanity. As a fresh start, she should give away all her endowments to the poor and needy. The clergy should live solely on the free-will offerings of their congregations, or possibly engage in some secular calling.

The now wherein God made the first man, and the now wherein the last man disappears, and the now I read more

The now wherein God made the first man, and the now wherein the last man disappears, and the now I am speaking in, all are the same in God, where this is but the now.

Thy word remaineth for ever, which word now appeareth unto us in the riddle of the clouds, and through the read more

Thy word remaineth for ever, which word now appeareth unto us in the riddle of the clouds, and through the mirror of the heavens, not as it is: because that even we, though the well beloved of thy Son, yet it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. He looked through the lattice of our flesh and he spake us fair, yea, he set us on fire, and we hasten on his scent. But when he shall appear, then shall we be like him, for we shall see him as he is: as he is, Lord, will our sight be, though the time be not yet. ... The Confessions of St. Augustine June 19, 1996 Commemoration of Sundar Singh of India, Sadhu, Evangelist, Teacher, 1929 Many we have who plead themselves to be Christians. This might be allowed them, would they not do such things as the Christian religion abhors. But this is the least part of their claim. They will also be the only Christians, all others who differ from them -- however so falsely called -- being only a drove of unbelievers, hastening unto hell.

Commemoration of Peter Chanel, Religious, Missionary in the South Pacific, Martyr, 1841 Tell God all that is in your read more

Commemoration of Peter Chanel, Religious, Missionary in the South Pacific, Martyr, 1841 Tell God all that is in your heart, as one unloads one's heart, its pleasures and its pains, to a dear friend. Tell Him your troubles, that He may comfort you; tell Him your joys, that He may sober them; tell Him your longings, that He may purify them; tell Him your dislikes, that He may help you conquer them; talk to Him of your temptations, that He may shield you from them: show Him the wounds of your heart, that He may heal them; lay bare your indifference to good, your depraved tastes for evil, your instability. Tell Him how self-love makes you unjust to others, how vanity tempts you to be insincere, how pride disguises you to yourself and others. If you thus pour out all your weaknesses, needs, troubles, there will be no lack of what to say. You will never exhaust the subject. It is continually being renewed. People who have no secrets from each other never want for subjects of conversation. They do not weigh their words, for there is nothing to be held back; neither do they seek for something to say. They talk out of the abundance of the heart, without consideration they say just what they think. Blessed are they who attain to such familiar, unreserved intercourse with God.

Feast of Patrick, Bishop of Armagh, Missionary, Patron of Ireland, c.460 Thanksgiving is the language of heaven, and we read more

Feast of Patrick, Bishop of Armagh, Missionary, Patron of Ireland, c.460 Thanksgiving is the language of heaven, and we had better start to learn it if we are not to be mere dumb aliens there.

Feast of Harriet Monsell of Clewer, Religious, 1883 It was not the pleasant things in the world that came read more

Feast of Harriet Monsell of Clewer, Religious, 1883 It was not the pleasant things in the world that came from the devil, and the dreary things from God! It was "sin brought death into the world and all our woe"; as the sin vanishes the woe will vanish too. God Himself is the ever-blessed God. He dwells in the light of joy as well as of purity, and instead of becoming more like Him as we become more miserable, and as all the brightness and glory of life are extinguished, we become more like God as our blessedness becomes more complete. The great Christian graces are radiant with happiness. Faith, hope, charity, there is no sadness in them; and if penitence makes the heart sad, penitence belongs to the sinner, not to the saint.

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in and read more

Commemoration of John Donne, Priest, Poet, 1631 I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in and invite God and His Angels thither; and when they are there, I neglect God and His Angels for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.