“He has created the poor savage with no guide but natural law, and it is to their hearts that He deigns to stoop. They are His wild flowers whose homeliness delights Him.”

I prefer to be accused unjustly, for then I have nothing to reproach myself with, and joyfully offer this to the good Lord. Then I humble myself at the thought that I am indeed capable of doing the thing of which I have been accused.

Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love.

The guest of our soul knows our misery; He comes to find an empty tent within us – that is all He asks.

The world’s thy ship and not thy home.

Perfect love means putting up with other peoples shortcomings, feeling no surprise at their weaknesses, finding encouragement even in the slightest evidence of good qualities in them.

I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifice to all ecstasies. To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul.

Let us love, since our heart is made for nothing else.

When one loves, one does not calculate.

Our Lord needs from us neither great deeds nor profound thoughts. Neither intelligence nor talents. He cherishes simplicity.

It is love alone that counts.

What offends Him and what wounds His Heart is the lack of confidence…Your heart is made to love Jesus, to love Him passionately…We have only the short moments of our life to love Jesus!

I know now that true charity consists in bearing all our neighbors’defects–not being surprised at their weakness, but edified at their smallest virtues.

I am very far from practicing what I understand.

If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.

Sufferings gladly borne for others convert more people than sermons.

When we yield to discouragement it is usually because we give too much thought to the past and to the future.

Welcome every morning with a smile. Look on the new day as another special gift from your Creator, another golden opportunity to complete what you were unable to finish yesterday.

Never trust the teller, trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.

I really can’t speak on others, but in a sense, I feel like every artist always has their problems with the industry because we all want to have our creative way.

Yes, money is important. But it’s all about the creative process.

Fruit is always the miraculous, the created; it is never the result of willing, but always a growth. The fruit of the Spirit is a gift of God, and only He can produce it. They who bear it know as little about it as the tree knows of its fruit. They know only the power of Him on whom their life depends.

And besides, look at elder flowers and bluebells-they are a sign that pure creation takes place – even the butterfly.

Men can only think. Women have a way of understanding without thinking. Woman was created out of God’s own fancy. Man, He had to hammer into shape.

We must understand love; we must be able to teach it, to create it, to predict it, or else the world is lost to hostility and to suspicion.