Murder in the Cathedral

Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended

The last act is the greatest treason. To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

This is one moment, / But know that another / Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.

The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

What day is the day that we know that we hope for or fear for? Every day is the day we should fear from or hope from. One moment Weighs like another. Only in retrospection, selection, We say, that was the day. The critical moment That is always now, and here.

A christian martyrdom is never an accident, for Saints are not made by accident.

They know and do not know, that acting is suffering And suffering is action. Neither does the actor suffer Nor the patient act. But both are fixed To an eternal action, an eternal patience To which all must consent that it may be willed And which all must suffer that they may will it, That the pattern may subsist, for the pattern is the action And the suffering, that the wheel may turn and still Be forever still.

We have only to conquer Now, by suffering. This is the easier victory. Now is the triumph of the cross.

A martyrdom is always the design of God, for His love of men, to warn them and to lead them, to bring them back to His ways. It is never the design of man; for the true martyr is he who has become the instrument of God, who has lost his will in the will of God, and who no longer desires anything for himself, not even the glory of being a martyr.

We acknowledge our trespass, our weakness, our fault; we acknowledge That the sin of the world is upon our heads; that the blood of the martyrs and the agony of the saints Is upon our heads. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us. Blessed Thomas, pray for us.

We do not know very much of the future / Except that from generation to generation / The same things happen again and again. / Men learn little from others' experience.

We are not here to triumph by fighting, by stratagem, or by resistance, Not to fight with beasts as men. We have fought the beast And have conquered. We have only to conquer Now, by suffering.

I see nothing quite conclusive in the art of temporal government, But violence, duplicity and frequent malversation.

It is the just man who Like a bold lion, should be without fear.

But if I break, I must break myself alone.

Unbar the doors! throw open the doors! I will not have the house of prayer, the church of Christ, The sanctuary, turned into a fortress. The Church shall protect her own, in her own way, not As oak and stone; stone and oak decay, Give no stay, but the Church shall endure. The church shall be open, even to our enemies. Open the door!

Go to vespers, remember me at your prayers. They shall find the shepherd here; the flock shall be spared. I have had a tremour of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper, And I would no longer be denied; all things Proceed to a joyful consummation.

What is woven on the loom of fate What is woven in the councils of princes Is woven also in our veins, our brains, Is woven like a pattern of living worms In the guts of the women of Canterbury

Man’s life is a cheat and a disappointment; All things are unreal, Unreal or disappointing: The Catherine wheel, the pantomime cat, The prizes given at the children’s party, The prize awarded for the English Essay, The scholar’s degree, the statesman’s decoration. All things become less real, man passes From unreality to unreality. This man is obstinate, blind, intent On self-destruction, Passing from deception to deception, From grandeur to grandeur to final illusion, Lost in the wonder of his own greatness, The enemy of society, enemy of himself.

For those who serve the greater cause may make the cause serve them, / Still doing right: and striving with political men / May make that cause political, not by what they do / But by what they are.

The last temptation is the greatest treason: / To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

Only / The fool, fixed in his folly, may think / He can turn the wheel on which he turns.

Meanwhile the substance of our first act Will be shadows, and the strife with shadows.