There is only one tragedy in the end, not to have been a saint.

Love does not make you weak, because it is the source of all strength, but it makes you see the nothingness of the illusory strength on which you depended before you knew it.

There are places in the heart that do not yet exist; suffering has to enter in for them to come to be.

The only real sadness, the only real failure, the only great tragedy in life, is not to become a saint.

Suffering passes, but the fact of having suffered never passes.

There is only one tragedy in the end, not to have been a saint.

Man has places in his heart which do not yet exist, and into them enters suffering, in order that they may have existence.