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One fall is not sufficient for a person to be lost nor are many, if they love You and not the things of the world. They journey in the valley of humility. I cannot understand what it is that makes people afraid of setting out on the road of perfection.

O my God, You see how easily I lose heart at the thought of my imperfections. Nevertheless, I shall continue to strive after virtue. Gladly will I forego all consolation in order to offer to You the “fruit” of all my efforts. I wish to make profit out of the smallest actions and do them all for love.

Let us go to Him who would have us be wholly His...

And so in spite of this trial which robs me of all sense of enjoyment, I can still say: ' You have given me O Lord, a delight in Your doings.' Ps. 91: 5. For is there a greater joy than to suffer for Your love, O my God? The more intense and more hidden the suffering the more do You value it.

Allow yourself to be taught, allow yourself to receive orders, allow yourself to be subjected and despised, and you will be perfect.

Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at other times become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them, thinking themselves to have been saints already; and thus they become angry and impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection.

Our faith is so dead that we desire what we see more than what faith tells us.

The devil does a great deal to incapacitate us when he sees a little fear.

To reach something good it is very useful to have gone astray, and thus to have acquired experience.

Contemplation is nothing else but a secret, peaceful, and loving infusion of God, which, if admitted, will set the soul on fire with the spirit of love.

You are the true peace of the heart, You are its only rest; outside of You all things are hard and uneasy.

Each morn You come to me at early Mass,
Your flesh and blood become my food and drink;
And wonders are accomplished.

Your body permeates mine mysteriously,
I feel Your soul becoming one with mine:
I am no longer what I used to be.

You come and go, but still the seed remains
Which You have sown for future splendor,
Hid in the body made from dust.