The love for material things grows like a fungus in the soul and destroys the loveliness of the human heart utterly.

The sense of the joy in anything is the sense of Christ.

There is no way of learning of God except through the adventure of our own heart.

God is everywhere: yes, but how dim faith is, what a remote idea heaven is, in the modern world!

Advent is the season of the secret, the secret of the growth of Christ, of divine love growing in silence…For nine months, Christ grew in his mother's body. By his own will, she formed him from herself, from the simplicity of her daily life.

We are only syllables of the perfect Word.

Christ used the flesh and blood of Mary for his life on earth, the Word of love was uttered in her heartbeat. Christ used his own body to utter his love on earth; his perfectly real body, with bone and sinew and blood and tears; Christ uses our bodies to express his love on earth, our humanity. A Christian life is a sacramental life, it is not a life lived only in the mind, only by the soul... Our humanity is the substance of the sacramental life of Christ in us, like the wheat for the host, like the grape for the chalice.