Together with the Works of Mercy, feeding, clothing and sheltering our brothers, we must indoctrinate.

If we had had the privilege of giving hospitality to a Ho Chi Minh, with what respect and interest we would have served him, as a man of vision, as a patriot, a rebel against foreign invaders.

We are not, most of us, capable of exalted emotion, save rarely.

A conversion is a lonely experience.

Our problems stem from our acceptance of this filthy, rotten system.

Dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as well as our friend.

The final word is love.

You can spend your time agonizing or organizing.

Tradition! We scarcely know the word anymore. We are afraid to be either proud of our ancestors or ashamed of them. We scorn nobility in name and in fact. We cling to a bourgeois mediocrity which would make it appear we are all Americans, made in the image and likeness of George Washington.

Have we even begun to be Christians?

The vanity of Eve, that desire to exercise power, to seduce, to drag down!

I think that just as we're in the nuclear era we're also in an era of non-violence. It's undefeatable.

We're under obligation to love -- that's the commandment.

I offered up a special prayer, a prayer which came with tears and anguish, that some way would open up for me to use what talents I possessed for my fellow workers, for the poor.

We are the nation the most powerful, the most armed and we are supplying arms and money to the rest of the world where we are not ourselves fighting. We are eating while there is famine in the world.

Paperwork, cleaning the house, dealing with the innumerable visitors who come all through the day, answering the phone, keeping patience and acting intelligently, which is to find some meaning in all that happens-these things, too, are the works of peace, and often seem like a very little way.

As for ourselves, yes, we must be meek, bear injustice, malice, rash judgment. We must turn the other cheek, give up our cloak, go a second mile.

My strength returns to me with my cup of coffee and the reading of the psalms.

People say, what is the sense of our small effort? They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time. A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples that spread in all directions. Each one of our thoughts, words and deeds is like that. No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.

No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There's too much work to do.