“Pain is never permanent.”

God deliver me from people who are so spiritual that they want to turn everything into perfect contemplation, come what may.

True perfection consists in the love of God and our neighbour, and the better we keep both these commandments, the more perfect we shall be.

The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too.

Christ moves along the pots and pans.

For pity’s sake, don’t start meeting troubles halfway.

He who has God finds he is lacking nothing.

Much more is accomplished by a single word of the Our Father said, now and then, from our heart, than by the whole prayer repeated many times in haste and without attention.

It is true that we cannot be free from sin, but at least let our sins not always be the same.

Out of suffering comes the serious mind; out of salvation, the grateful heart; out of endurance, fortitude; out of deliverance faith. Patient endurance attends to all things.

You pay God a compliment by asking great things of Him.

Do you know when people really become spiritual? It is when they become the slaves of God and are branded with His sign, which is the sign of the Cross, in token that they have given Him their freedom.

From heaven even the most miserable life will look like one bad night at an inconvenient hotel.

Let us live in such a way as not to be afraid to die.

The closer one approaches to God, the simpler one becomes.

Love makes labour light. Love alone gives value to all things.

Our body has this defect that, the more it is provided care and comforts, the more needs and desires it finds.

There is no love deeper than a broken soul madly in love.

The purest of hearts go through the deepest of pain.

Like love & pain, you will slowly fade away too.

Kiss his wounds and tell him its okay to cry, humans have emotions and they bleed sometimes.

The burns didn’t hurt this badly when we were on fire.

She wished he was her essence but he wasn’t even worth to breathe the air she lived in.

Do we break our own heart too? Tell me, don’t we all do? Everytime you lock it up, ignoring what it tells you, doesn’t it break a little too?

Someday your pen will write a revolution. Until then, write your pain.