“Woe to those who die in mortal sin!”

If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men.

We should never desire to be over others. Instead, we ought to be servants who are submissive to every human being for God’s sake.

I am the herald of the Great King.

The Father willed that his blessed and glorious Son, whom he gave to us and who was born for us, should through his own blood offer himself as a sacrificial victim on the altar of the cross. This was to be done not for himself through whom all things were made, but for our sins.

Holy charity confounds all diabolical and fleshly temptations and all fleshly fears.

Praised be You, my Lord, with all Your creatures, especially Sir Brother Sun, Who is the day through whom You give us light. And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour; of You, Most High, he bears the likeness.

No one is to be called an enemy, all are your benefactors, and no one does you harm. You have no enemy except yourselves.

For it is in giving that we receive.

Pure, holy simplicity confounds all the wisdom of this world and the wisdom of the flesh.

Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

If a superior give any order to one who is under him which is against that man’s conscience, although he do not obey it yet he shall not be dismissed.

We must not be wise and prudent according to the flesh. Rather, we must be simple, humble and pure.

It is not fitting, when one is in God’s service, to have a gloomy face or a chilling look.

If God can work through me, he can work through anyone.

Grant me the treasure of sublime poverty: permit the distinctive sign of our order to be that it does not possess anything of its own beneath the sun, for the glory of your name, and that it have no other patrimony than begging.

Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.

After your death, you will be what you were before your birth.

Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret.

Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.

Animals hear about death for the first time when they die.

If your eyes could speak what stories would it tell? Would it even be able to speak or would it end up choking on all the water?

The eighth deathly sin; a being comfortably lowering their standards for a person who isn’t worthy or good enough to be with someone like them.

In the veins of poets flows ink, with which they create words for eternity. When they die a part of their souls will still stay alive in their poetry.

I hate that time flies away too soon. I hate that dreams die faster when I don’t have you.