For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.
Let us not be justices of the peace, but angels of peace.
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.
For one pain endured with joy, we shall love the good God more forever.
Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you. All things are passing. God alone remains.
True charity consists in putting up with all one’s neighbors fault’s; never being surprised by his weakness, and being inspired by the least of his virtues.
Look at Him while He is looking at you.
Life passes. Eternity comes to meet us with great strides. Soon we shall be living with the very life of Jesus. Having drunk deep at the source of all bitterness, we shall be deified in the very source of all joys, of all delights.
Silence does good to the soul.
Heaven for me is hidden in a little Host Where Jesus, my Spouse, is veiled for love. I go to that Divine Furnace to draw out life, And there my Sweet Saviour listens to me night and day.
When we yield to discouragement it is usually because we give too much thought to the past and to the future.
My director, Jesus, does not teach me to count my acts, but to do everything for love, to refuse Him nothing, to be pleased when He gives me a chance to prove to Him that I love Him – but all this in peace – in abandonment.
I also understood that God’s love shows itself just as well in the simplest soul which puts up no resistance to His grace as it does in the loftiest soul.
Frequently, only silence can express my prayer.
Time is but a shadow, a dream; already God sees us in glory and takes joy in our eternal beatitude. How this thought helps my soul! I understand then why He lets us suffer.
In spite of this trial, which takes all enjoyment from me, I can never the less, cry out, ‘Lord, you fill me with joy in all that you do. For is there a joy greater than to suffer for love?’
It isn’t enough to love; we must prove it.
Discouragement itself is a form of pride.
If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.
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.