Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Just because ...
In 1850, a certain lady who corresponded with Venerable John Henry Newman, C.O., wrote to him that a friend of hers considered him to be a saint. His reply was, IMHO, priceless.

"You must undeceive Miss A. B. about me, though I suppose she uses words in a general sense. I have nothing of a saint about me as every one knows, and it is a severe (and salutary) mortification to be thought next door to one. I may have a high view of many things, but it is the consequence of education and a peculiar cast of intellect-but this is very different from being what I admire. I have no tendency to be a saint-it is a sad thing to say so. Saints are not literary men, they do not love the classics, they do not write Tales. I may be well enough in my way, but it is not the 'high line.' People ought to feel this, most people do. But those who are at a distance have exalted notions about one. It is enough for me to black the saints' shoes-if St. Philip uses blacking in heaven. "

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