Pius XI drafted the encyclical Mit brennender Sorge (“With Deep Anxiety”). It was the first major church document to criticize Nazism. Smuggled into Germany, it was read on Palm Sunday from every Catholic pulpit—before a single copy had fallen into Nazi hands. As Richard Pierard explains, the encyclical protested the oppression of the church and called on Catholics to resist the idolatrous cult of race and state, to stand against the perversion of Christian doctrines and morality, and to maintain their loyalty to Christ, his church, and Rome. Hitler reacted furiously at first, but then decided to avoid a break with Rome by treating the encyclical with silence. Knowing that he had the support of the German Catholic laypeople, Hitler simply stepped up the pressure on the churches to eliminate the possibility of organized resistance.
There are old pilots and foolish pilots, but no old foolish pilots. Me, I was old, young, wise, foolish, thirty-four. Also depressed, divorced and broke.
'Your sister... I gather she's been ill.'
She looked away up at the sun-filled sky and down again and straight at me, and in a shattering moment of awareness I saw the pain and the cracks behind the bright public façade.
She took three more steps towards the stairs, then stopped again.
'Why is it that I talk to you as if I'd known you for years?'
To a certain extent I knew, but I smiled and shook my head. No one cares to say straight out that it's because one is as negative as wallpaper.
'Love on a crust,' she said, 'is fine when you're twenty, but pretty squalid when you're sixty.'
'I don't intend to be sixty. Sixty is strictly for grandfathers. Not my scene at all.'