"She stood by the tea-table in a light-coloured muslin gown, which had a good deal of pink about it. She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless, daintiness."

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Growing up under the heavy hand of the School Sisters of Notre Dame, it was drummed into me that attending weekly mass was not an option. It was a must to avoid eternal damnation, which was not a prospect filled with many positives. Hell fire was perpetual, and no parole would be offered.

— Bill O'Reilly