Since [man] is infinitely removed from comprehending the extremes, the end of things and their beginning are hopelessly hidden from him in an impenetrable secret; he is equally incapable of seeing the nothing from which he was made, and the infinite in which he is swallowed up.

It is not possible to have reasonable grounds for not believing in miracles.

We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end.

Men seek rest in a struggle against difficulties; and when they have conquered these, rest becomes insufferable.

Those great efforts of intellect, upon which the mind sometimes touches, are such that it cannot maintain itself there. It only leaps to them, not as upon a throne, forever, but merely for an instant.

When we read too fast or too slowly, we understand nothing.

You gave me health that I might serve you; and so often I failed to use my good health in your service. Now you send me sickness in order to correct me Grant that, having ignored the things of spirit when my body was vigorous, I may now enjoy spiritual sweetness while my body groans with pain.