Nicias, do you think you can erase with good deeds the wrongs you committed against your mother? What good deed will ever reach her? Her soul is a scorching noon time, without a single breath of a breeze, nothing moves, nothing changes, nothing lives there; a great emaciated sun, an immobile sun eternally consumes her.
Mary found again in the adorable Host the adorable fruit of her womb. . . and began in the Cenacle her new maternity at the feet of Jesus in the Eucharist