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

I pray like a robber asking alms at the door of a farmhouse to which he is ready to set fire.

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

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.

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

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