We are all called to be saints, St. Paul says, and we might as well get over our bourgeois fear of the name. We might also get used to recognizing the fact that there is some of the saint in all of us.
If you feed the poor, you're a saint. If you ask why they're poor, you're a Communist.
Don't call me a saint; I don't want to be dismissed so easily.
I have been disillusioned, however, this long, long time in the means used by any but the saints to live in this world God has made for us.
It is we ourselves that we have to think about, no one else. That is the way the saints worked. They paid attention to what they were doing, and if others were attracted to them by their enterprise, why, well and good. But they looked to themselves first of all.
Where are the heroes and the saints, who keep a clear vision of man's greatest gift, his freedom, to oppose not only the dictatorship of the proletariat, but also the dictatorship of the benevolent state, which takes possession of the family, and of the indigent, and claims our young for war?
When they call you a saint, it means basically that you are not to be taken seriously.
Whatever I had read as a child about the saints had thrilled me. I could see the nobility of giving one's life for the sick, the maimed, the leper. But there was another question in my mind. Why was so much done in remedying the evil instead of avoiding it in the first place? Where were the saints to try to change the social order, not just to minister to the slaves, but to do away with slavery?
Where were the saints to try to change the social order, not just to minister to the slaves, but to do away with slavery?
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