From a Classic Book About Our Lady

When we feel utterly unworthy to approach her adorable Son, we may speak to Him through the Heart of Mary. When we are disappointed in earthly loves, we may be very sure of meeting no sorrow or distress where no one ever sought comfort in vain, or cried for aid without obtaining relief. When the death of others, whom we love, utterly casts us down, we may still turn to that immortal Mother over whom death has no empire, who has made us a place in her Son’s eternal mansion, and keeps it for us, a true and faithful Mother, watching for our coming home.

Best of all, her love is not limited by our own hearts. Like all mothers, she loves us with a gratuitous and superabounding love–more than we ever shall deserve. This is the sweetest charm of friendship–of motherliness, and this exceeding love is found in no other woman’s heart as it burns in the Heart of Mary.

From The Most Beloved Woman by Edward Francis Garesché

Vaughan on Love

Fr. John Vaughan wrote quite well on love here:

WHAT the sun is in the material order, that love is in the social and moral order. As the sun burnishes the tips of the mountains, lights up the valleys, and converts seas and rivers into liquid gold, making a Paradise where but a moment ago all was cheerless and dark, so love casts a charm over the commonest life, and infuses warmth and colour, and beauty and pathos, into the most ordinary and humdrum existence. The newly-born infant lives, develops and grows strong as it basks in the sunshine of its mother’s love ; and even grown-up men and women turn as naturally and as eagerly towards a devoted friend as the sunflower is said to turn towards the sun.

Of all topics that can engross the mind, the only one of which men never seem to tire or grow weary is love. It forms the very warp and woof of romance and of story. It is the soul and vivifying principle of poetry and fiction. It is the unfailing inspirer of art, and painting, and music, and song. It creates the valour of the soldier, the daring of the explorer, the plodding perseverance of the scholar, and the unflinching courage of the martyr. Under its influence the weak become strong, the despondent hopeful, and the niggardly generous. It changes, transforms and ameliorates what ever it touches ; and infuses a nobler and higher impulse wherever its influence penetrates.

It is so congenial to man, so completely in accordance with his natural temperament, that he cannot wholly dispense with it, unless indeed by God s grace he rise altogether above nature. If, in sooth, there be in this world one poor sufferer more sure than another of exciting compassion and awakening sympathy, it is the lonely and desolate heart that has no one to befriend it, no one to address it a kind word. What notion, indeed, do we instinctively form of heaven itself, but a place of pure unclouded love? And what is the worst picture we can draw of hell, but a place
where love is stifled and extinguished, and cursed hate and jealousy hold sway and rule supreme?

From the book Thoughts for All Times

A Lack of Quality

I’m describing this blog, of course. It really does lack quality. It also has very few viewers (and for good reason). It has no “hook” that keeps people coming back to see what’s up. Frankly, it’s boring.

Still, that’s no reason for me to stop. I continue to plod along.

In a few moments of spare time, I’m actually playing old Infocom games. Some I never solved, and some I did solve but still would like to revisit after, oh, 20 or so years. TWENTY YEARS?!?! Is it really that long ago? Those were different days when it comes to computer games.