The Catholic Church must formulate a policy, must become intelligent, coherent.
He has small faith in meetings, pronouncing the word with an amused disdain, nor does he attach great importance to preaching, convinced that no Englishman can preach: "Even Roman Catholics can't preach in England." As for those chapels to which people go to hear a popular preacher, he calls them "preaching shops," and speaks with pity of those who occupy their pulpits: "That must be a dreadful life--dreadful, oh, quite dreadful!" Yet he has a lasting admiration for the sermons of Charles Spurgeon.

As to Jeremy Taylor, "I confess that all that turgid rhetoric wearies me." He does not think the Oxford Movement has spent itself.

On the contrary, the majority of the young men who present themselves for ordination are very largely inspired by the spirit of that Movement.

All the same, he perceives a danger in formalism, a resting in symbolism for its own sake.

In its genesis, the Oxford Movement threw up great men, very great men, men of considerable intellectual power and a most profound spirituality; it is not to be expected, perhaps, that such giants should appear again, and in their absence lesser men may possibly mistake the symbol for the thing symbolised, and so fall into the error of formalism.