Catholic World, Volume 122

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Paulist Fathers, 1926 - Catholic literature

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Page 264 - That Man is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end they were achieving; that his origin, his growth, his hopes and fears, his loves and his beliefs, are but the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms...
Page 264 - ... the outcome of accidental collocations of atoms; that no fire, no heroism, no intensity of thought and feeling, can preserve an individual life beyond the grave; that all the labors of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of man's achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins — all these things, if not quite beyond...
Page 169 - When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it— lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew. And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets
Page 722 - I have spoken to you, abide in me, and I in you, as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in -me. I am the vine, you the branches: he that abideth in me and I in him the same beareth much fruit: for without me you can do nothing.
Page 722 - And he fenced it, And gathered out the stones thereof, And planted it with the choicest vine, And built a tower in the midst of it, And also made a wine-press therein. And he looked that it should bring forth grapes, And it brought forth wild grapes.
Page 783 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak.
Page 130 - Thus mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying is true.
Page 188 - For each glance of the eye so bright and black, Though I keep with heart's endeavour, — Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back, Though it stay in my soul for ever ! — Yet I will but say what mere friends say, Or only a thought stronger ; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer...
Page 791 - And I, brethren, could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal, even as unto babes in Christ. I have fed you with milk, and not with meat : for hitherto ye were not able to bear it, neither yet now are ye able.
Page 381 - And whereas the enforcing of the conscience in matters of religion hath frequently fallen out to be of dangerous consequence...

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