Each of these formulas possesses a certain relative truth, but all of them together come short of the whole truth.

Nationality, which acts better perhaps than it argues, is one of the great forces of nature and of human nature that have got to be accepted.

Nationality will out, and where it exists it will, in spite of all resistance, strain fiercely to express itself in some sort of autonomous government.
German romance depicts for us the misery and restlessness of a man who had lost his shadow.

Catholic theologians--if the masters of a wisdom too high and too austere for these days may be invoked--tell us that the departed soul, even though it be in Paradise, hungers with a great desire for the Resurrection that it may be restored to its life-long comrade, the body.
"The crimson-throbbing glow Into its old abode aye pants to go." Look again at Ireland and you will discern, under all conflicts, that unity of memory, of will, of material interest, of temperamental atmosphere which knits men into a nation.

You will notice the presence of these characteristics, but it is an absence, a void that will most impress you.