A man who does nothing never has time to do anything

By perseverance the snail reached the ark. A mouse may find a hole, be the room ever so full of cats.

Life is short and we have scarcely begun to live when we are called to die.

Trials teach us what we are.

Our misery is that we thirst so little for these sublime things, and so much for the mocking trifles of time and space.

I do not think I should care to go on worshipping a Madonna even if she did wink. One cannot make much out of a wink. We want something more than that from the object of our adoration.

I bear my testimony that there is no joy to be found in all this world like that of sweet communion with Christ. I would barter all else there is of heaven for that. Indeed, that is heaven. As for the harps of gold and the streets like clear glass and the songs of seraphs and the shouts of the redeemed, one could very well give all these up, counting them as a drop in a bucket, if we might forever live in fellowship and communion with Jesus.