“Love is the Cross, and the Cross is Love.”

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.

Look at His adorable face. Look at His glazed and sunken eyes. Look at His wounds. Look Jesus in the Face. There, you will see how He loves us.

You cannot be half a saint; you must be a whole saint or no saint at all.

Trials help us detach ourselves from the earth; they make us look higher than this world.

Do not fear to tell Jesus that you love Him even without feeling it. That is the way to force Jesus to help you, to carry you like a little child too feeble to walk.

As the sun shines both on the cedar and the smallest flower, so the Divine sun illumines each soul.

For me, prayer is an upward leap of the heart, an untroubled glance towards heaven, a cry of gratitude and love which I utter from the depths of sorrow as well as from the heights of joy.

Look at Him while He is looking at you.

In trial or difficulty I have recourse to Mother Mary, whose glance alone is enough to dissipate every fear.

He does not call those who are worthy, but those whom He wills.

I want to give myself totally to Him…I want to live no longer but for Him.

There is literally nothing that I ever asked to do, that I asked the blessed Creator to help me to do, that I have not been able to accomplish.

I figure that if God actually does exist, he is big enough to understand an honest difference of opinion.

The luckiest thing that ever happened to me was that my father didn’t believe in God, and so he had no hang-ups about souls.

I have come to see the nonsense of attempting to describe fine scenery. There is no such possibility. If scenery could be adequately reproduced in words, there would have been no need of God’s making it in reality.

Be sure thy sin will find thee out.

As one sits here in summertime and listens to the cuckoo and all the other bird songs, the crackling and buzzing of insects, as one gazes at the shining colors of flowers, doth one become dumbstruck before the Kingdom of the Creator.

The perfect knowledge of events cannot be acquired without divine inspiration, since all prophetic inspiration receives its prime motivating force from God the creator, then from good fortune and nature.

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.