step will bring me nearer the village
spire. I am not wandering through life, I am marching on, I stir with my
feet the dust in which my father has planted his. My child, on the same
road, will find the traces of my footsteps, and, perhaps, on seeing that
I have not faltered, will say: 'Let me act like my old father and not
lose myself in the ploughed land.'"

If the word holy has still a meaning, despite the uses it has been put
to, I do not see that a better use can be made of it than by placing it
beside the word family.

They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible
policies, patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this
bright horizon is summed up in these three words: "Love your neighbor,"
and this is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach.

To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that
you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who
will show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who
deal in this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf.

Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like
the poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing
higher than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this
undiscoverable plant, I know where it grows.

It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is
there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the
family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and
saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to
love others by embracing their own children.

Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian
theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are
about him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which
must be enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family
love that is comprised love of country and consequently of humanity. It
is from fathers that citizens are made.

Man has not twenty prime movers, but only one in his heart; do not argue
but profit by it.

Affection is catching. Love between three--father, mother, and
child--when it is strong, soon requires space; it pushes back the walls
of the house, and by degrees invites the neighbors. The important thing,
then, is to give birth to this love between three; for it is madness,
I am afraid, to thrust th