"Let's say it's not a religion.  It is a church, in every legal and moral senses - and I suppose our Nest is a monastery.  But we're not trying to bring people to God; that's a contradiction in terms, you can't even say it in Martian.  We're not trying to save souls, because souls can't be lost.  We're not trying to get people to have faith, because what we offer is not faith but truth - truth they can check; we don't urge them to believe it.  Truth for practical purposes, for here-and-now, truth as matter of fact as an ironing board and as useful as a loaf of bread... so practical that it can make war and hunger and violence and hate as unnecessary as... as - well, as clothes here in the Nest.  But they have to learn Martian first.  That's the only hitch-finding people who are honest enough to believe what they see, and then are willing to do the hard work - it is hard work - of learning the language it can be taught in.  A composer couldn't possibly write down a symphony in English... and this sort of symphony can't be stated in English any more than Beethoven's Fifth can be." She smiled. "But Mike never hurries.  Day after day he screens hundreds of people finds a few dozen... and out of those a very few trickle into the Nest and he trains them further.  And someday Mike will have some of us so thoroughly trained that we can go out and start other nests, and then it can begin to snowball.  But there's no hurry.  None of us, even us in the Nest, are really trained.  Are we, dear?"