I thought instinctively of Schubert's quintet [finished] a few hours before he died. When one listens to such works, it is easier to believe in the existence of the next world, its aura only rarely, and yet sometimes with sufficient clarity, permeates the souls of the dying. Oh Lord, God of artists and of the faithful with pure souls, how magnificently You are able in the hour of death to reveal Your presence! And how tenaciously the artist must work to earn this privilege before departing our bitter and barren earth (Gustaw Herling from his story "The Madrigal of Mourning")
"To thee do we cry, poor, banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus, O merciful, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary!"