For men to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?

The Glorious Virgin did not have a stain in her birth because she was santified in her mother's womb and safeguarded there by angels.

It moves one's heart to think: Nine months before I was born there was a woman who loved me deeply. She did not know what I was going to be like, but she loved me because she carried me in her womb.

The unborn baby, though enclosed in the womb of its mother, is already a human being, and should not be robbed of the life which it has not yet begun to enjoy.

Did my infancy succeed another age of mine that dies before it? Was it that which I spent within my mother's womb?... And what before that life again, O God of my joy, was I anywhere or in any body?

Death is given in a kiss; the dearest kindnesses are fatal; and into this life, where one thing preys upon another, the child too often makes its entrance from the mother's corpse.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.

Eventually we'll be able to sequence the human genome and replicate how nature did intelligence in a carbon-based system.

If man had created man, he would be ashamed of his performance.

What persons are by starts they are by nature.

All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights to dwell, His visits there are frequent, His conversation sweet, His comforts refreshing; and His peace passing all understanding.

Individuality is founded in feeling and the recesses of feeling, the darker, blinder strata of character, are the only places in the world in which we catch real fact in the making, and directly perceive how events happen, and how work is actually done.