On not being allowed to watch the Conclave

I love being Catholic, not only for the vast horizons the Church opens before my searching eyes and thirsting heart, but also for the mighty, wooden doors she closes in front of my inquiring nose. That the Church dares — in a world nauseous with false egalitarianism — to declare things too holy to be dressed in anything but a finery I cannot afford, a secrecy I cannot know, and a reverence I can only hope to attain — all this convinces me that she alone is the throne of Eternity on earth. In her ritual, the Catholic Church treats Christ as lovers treat each other in their deepest silence, with trembling adoration, revealing herself as the Bride of Christ indeed.

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