A cemetery saddens us because it is the only place of the world in which we do not meet our dead again.

We know well only what we are deprived of.

Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures.

The temples of those who deny the Real Presence are like corpses. The Lord was taken away and we do not know where they have laid Him.

No love, no friendship, can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever.

The arrogance of poets is only a defense; doubt gnaws the greatest among them; they need our testimony to escape despair.

That is the mystery of grace: it never comes too late.