My secret," he would say to me, "consists in loving with my whole soul, to the point of giving my life for them, the souls called to read me some day. - Léon Bloy

Any Christian who is not a hero is a pig.

Of course the avaricious man of our day, be he landlord, merchant, industrialist, does not adore sacks of coins or bundles of banknotes in some little chapel and upon some little altar. He does not kneel before these spoils of other men, nor does he address prayers or canticles to them amidst odorous clouds of incense. But he proclaims that money is the only good, and he yields it all his soul. A cult sincere, without hypocrisy, never growing weary, never forsworn. Whenever he says, in the debasement of his heart and his speech, that he loves money for the delights it can purchase, he lies or he terribly deceives himself, this very assertion being belied at the very moment he utters it by every one of his acts, by the infinite toil and pains to which he gladly condemns himself in order to acquire or conserve that money which is but the visible figure of the Blood of Christ circulating throughout all His members.

You will be unsaleable in perpetuity, the Unsaleable, in your books as well as in your person, and thus will be definitively realized the separation, naturally desired by you, from the sellers and people for sale.