The prayer of the heart is mysterious, and at certain times it is lacking. Instead, the prayer of the lips that which is whispered or recited chorally is always accessible.

Intimacy and the honest pleasures of the flesh will not fade away.

The two most recent selections by the Catholic Book Club couldn't have been more different: A look at Thomas Jefferson's quixotic attempt to rewrite the Bible, and Niall Williams's richly evocative novel about a small village in the west of Ireland.

Whatever else sin is, it is always a forgetting that we are loved by God. And the more we sin, the more we forget.

Suffering is never the end in the Christian worldview and, more importantly, the Christian experience.  

Louise Glück’s poem, “Wild Iris,” begins with a description of death, the sort of death something made of earth and growing there might recount if it could speak.