There was nothing medieval people liked better, or did better, than sorting out and tidying up. Of all our modern inventions I suspect that they would most have admired the card index.

We only learn to behave ourselves in the presence of God.

Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

For in self-giving, if anywhere, we touch a rhythm not only of all creation but of all being.

God, who foresaw your tribulation, has specially armed you to go through it, not without pain but without stain.

Other than heaven, the only place where one's heart is completely safe from the dangers of love is hell.

Before we can be cured, we must want to be cured.