“A great thing shall I make hereof in Heaven of endless worship and everlasting joys.”

This is our Lord’s will… that our prayer and our trust be, alike, large.

Our Lord is the ground from whom our prayer grows and in his love and grace he himself gives us our prayers.

For our soul is so preciously loved of him that is highest, that it over-passeth the knowing of all creatures.

He that made all things for love, by the same love keepeth them, and shall keep them without end.

All that is contrary to love and peace is of the Fiend and of his part.

It needeth us to have knowing of the littleness of creatures and to hold as nought all-thing that is made, for to love and have God that is unmade.

Anything less then God, ever me wanteth.

We need to fall, and we need to be aware of it; for if we did not fall, we should not know how weak and wretched we are of ourselves, nor should we know our Maker’s marvellous love so fully.

Charity keepeth us in Faith and Hope, and Hope leadeth us in Charity. And in the end all shall be Charity.

Wherefore me behoveth needs to grant that all-thing that is done, it is well-done: for our Lord God doeth all.

Prayer is the deliberate and persevering action of the soul. It is true and enduring, and full of grace. Prayer fastens the soul to God and makes it one with God’s will.

Our Savior is our true Mother in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come.

Where do we begin? Begin with the heart.

For in every soul that shall be saved is a Godly Will that never assented to sin, nor ever shall.

All will be well, and every kind of thing will be well.

We give our intent to love and meekness, by the working of mercy and grace we are made all fair and clean.

We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.

It is true that the king has made a truce with the duke of Burgundy for fifteen days and that the duke is to turn over the city of Paris at the end of fifteen days.

Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.

Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.

And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.

I was coming to the end of a difficult period in my life, though when the end isn’t in plain sight, you don’t realize how close you are.

By the end of the 1950s, American cars were so reliable that their reliability went without saying even in car ads. Thousands of them bear testimony to this today, still running on the roads of Cuba though fueled with nationalized Venezuelan gasoline and maintained with spit and haywire.

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.