The drunken man is a living corpse.

Him who is dead and gone honor with remembrance, not with tears.

Prayer is the root, the fountain, the mother of a thousand blessings.

If you would rise, shun luxury, for luxury lowers and degrades.

If there were no tribulation, there would be no rest; if there were no winter, there would be no summer.

Even if we have thousands of acts of great virtue to our credit, our confidence in being heard must be based on God's mercy and His love for men. Even if we stand at the very summit of virtue, it is by mercy that we shall be saved.

Intemperance is a hydra with a hundred heads. She never stalks abroad unaccompanied with impurity, anger, and the most infamous profligacies.