beside the word family.

They speak of progress, justice, general well-being, infallible policies,
patriotism, devotion. I am for all these good things, but this bright
horizon is summed up in these three words: "Love your neighbor," and this
is precisely, in my opinion, the thing they forget to teach.

To love your neighbor is as simple as possible, but the mischief is that
you do not meet with this very natural feeling. There are people who
will show you the seed in the hollow of their hand, but even those who
deal in this precious grain are the last to show you it in leaf.

Well, my dear reader, this little plant which should spring up like the
poppies in the wheat, this plant which has never been seen growing higher
than watercress, but which should overtop the oaks, this undiscoverable
plant, I know where it grows.

It grows beside the domestic hearth, between the shovel and tongs; it is
there that it perpetuates itself, and if it still exists, it is to the
family that we owe it. I love pretty nearly all the philanthropists and
saviours of mankind; but I only believe in those who have learned to love
others by embracing their own children.

Mankind can not be remodelled to satisfy the wants of humanitarian
theories; man is egotistical, and he loves, above all, those who are
about him. This is the natural human sentiment, and it is this which
must be enlarged, extended and cultivated. In a word, it is in family
love that is comprised love of country and consequently of humanity.
It is from fathers that citizens are made.