Archive

When I am in this state of spiritual dryness, unable to pray, or to practice virtue, I look for little opportunities, for the smallest trifles, to give pleasure to Jesus; a smile or a kind word, for instance, when I would wish to be silent, or to show that I am bored. If no such occasion offer, I try at least to say over and over again that I love Him. This is not heard, and it keeps alive the fire in my heart. Even should the fire of love seem dead, I would still throw my tiny straws on the ashes, and I am confident it would light up again.

I am glad to recognize that when we love God our heart expands, and we can give incomparably more tender love to those who are dear to us than when our love is selfish and barren… Love is fed by and develops from sacrifice.

I've never acted like Pilate, who refused to listen to the truth. I've always said to God: O my God, I really want to listen to You; I beg You to answer me when I say humbly: What is truth? Make me see things as they really are. Let nothing cause me to be deceived.

You know it has ever been my desire to become a Saint, but I have always felt, in comparing myself with the Saints, that I am as far removed from them as the grain of sand, which the passerby tramples underfoot... Instead of being discouraged, I concluded that God would not inspire desires which could not be realized, and that I may aspire to sanctity in spite of my littleness. For me to become great is impossible. I must bear with myself and my many imperfections...

Does He not see our anguish and the burden that weighs us down? Why does He not come and comfort us? ...He knows that it is the only means of preparing us to know Him as He knows Himself, and to become ourselves Divine!

God is compassionate and filled with gentleness, slow to punish and abundant in mercy, for He knows our frailty, He remembers we are dust.

My life is but an instant, an hour that passes by; a single day that slips my grasp and quickly slides away. O well you know, my dearest God, to love you I only have today.

You know that our Lord does not look at the greatness or difficulty of our action, but at the love with which you do it. What, then, have you to fear?

Be not afraid to tell Jesus that you love Him; even though it be without feeling, this is the way to oblige Him to help you, and carry you like a little child too feeble to walk.

I always feel the same fearless certainty that I shall become a great saint. I’m not relying on my own merits, as I have none, but I put my hope in Him who is goodness and holiness Himself. It is He alone who, satisfied with my feeble efforts, will raise me to Him, will clothes me with His infinite merits, and will make me a saint.

In the evening of this life, I shall appear before You with empty hands, for I do not ask You, Lord, to count my works. All our justice is stained in Your eyes. I wish, then, to be clothed in Your own Justice and to receive from Your Love the eternal possession of Yourself. I want no other Throne, no other Crown but You, my Beloved!

To be truly a victim of love, we must give ourselves up entirely; for we are only consumed by love in the degree that we give ourselves to love.