“Never stop wanting for your magic.”

You know well that Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, as at the love with which we do them.

Love needs to be proved by action.

The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.

A heart given to God loses none of its natural tenderness; on the contrary, the more pure and divine it becomes, the more such tenderness increases.

Nobody is a good judge in his own cause!

God would never inspire me with desires which cannot be realized; so in spite of my littleness, I can hope to be a saint.

Frequently, only silence can express my prayer.

I say nothing to him I love him.

Holiness consists simply in doing God’s will, and being just what God wants us to be.

I realized that to become a saint one must suffer a great deal, always seek what is best, and forget oneself.

When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens,I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.

I felt it better to speak to God than about Him.

Prayer for me is an updward leap of the heart

The greatest honor God can do a soul is not give it much; but to ask much of it.

Let us go forward in peace, our eyes upon heaven, the only one goal of our labors.

The loveliest materpiece of the heart of God is the love of a Mother.

The way a dancer can bring the crowd to its feet with a drawn-out, well-executed pirouette is the excitement I wanted to capture with this design.

You believe in magic and so do I, because I believe in you.

I’m still a little certain I’m a wizard.

Manuka honey is magic.

I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful – an endless prospect of magic and wonder.

It’s okay to be sensitive. That’s what happens when you have magic in your heart.

One remarkable fact stands out in the history of witchcraft; and that is, its victims were chiefly women. Scarce one wizard to a hundred witches was ever burned or tortured.

Human beings suffer agonies, and their sad fates become legends; poets write verses about them and playwrights compose dramas, and the remembrance of past grief becomes a source of present pleasure – such is the strange alchemy of the spirit.