“It is love alone that counts.”

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 science of loving, yes, that’s the only kind of science I want I’d barter away everything I possess to win it.

If I did not simply live from one moment to another, it would be impossible for me to be patient, but I only look at the present, I forget the past, and I take good care not to forestall the future.

Discouragement itself is a form of pride.

I never knew my grandmothers, but I could always count of the Bookmobile.

People have often told me that one of their strongest childhood memories is the scent of their grandmother’s house.

He threw a lot of strikes, worked it inside and out, threw breaking balls for strikes behind in the count.

I ache with everything in me to make it count, so that when I finally cross the finish line, I’ll hear the words, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.

Whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines.

Music is a hidden arithmetic exercise of the soul, which does not know that it is counting.

Unless you count the political backdrop, which in any case is a familiar one to many international readers

You can always count on the New York Times to cut your legs off.