That love of self, which the world advocates, is a thousand times more dangerous than any poison.

Our piety must be weak and imperfect if it do not conquer our fear of death.

Genuine good taste consists in saying much in few words, in choosing among our thoughts, in having order and arrangement in what we say, and in speaking with composure.

The wind of God is always blowing... but you must hoist your sail.

Had we not faults of our own, we should take less pleasure in complaining of others.

Do we accustom ourselves to see all things in the light of faith? Do we correct all our judgments by it? Alas! The greater part of Christians think and act like mere heathens; if we judge (as we justly may) of their faith by their practice, we must conclude they have no faith at all.

If we were faultless, we should not be so much annoyed by the defects of those with whom we associate. If we were to acknowledge honestly that we have not virtue enough to bear patiently with our neighbor's weaknesses, we should show our own imperfection, and this alarms our vanity.