There are times when I think of the men out there as Roman legionaries, miles from their corrupt city, stemming back the hordes...

hordes a little more menacing, after all, than the corrupt city...

another blind blow at the race, furies that we passed with ovations years ago, over whose corpses we bleated triumphantly all through the Victorian era....
And afterward an out-and-out materialistic world--and the Catholic Church.

I wonder where you'll fit in.

Of one thing I'm sure--Celtic you'll live and Celtic you'll die; so if you don't use heaven as a continual referendum for your ideas you'll find earth a continual recall to your ambitions.
Amory, I've discovered suddenly that I'm an old man.