Prayer is an all-efficient panoply, a treasure undiminished, a mine which is never exhausted, a sky unobscured by clouds, a heaven unruffled by the storm. It is the root, the fountain, the mother of a thousand blessings.

If then we have Angels, let us be sober, as though we were in the presence of tutors; for there is a demon present also.

Every man is the painter and the sculptor of his own life.

Make account that thou hast done nothing, and then thou hast done all. For if, being sinners, when we account ourselves to be what we are, we become righteous, as indeed the Publican did; how much more, when being righteous we account ourselves to be sinners.

The road to Hell is paved with the bones of priests and monks, and the skulls of bishops are the lamp posts that light the path.

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

Yet, when we must put aside our wrath, quench our envy, soften our anger, offer our prayers, and show a disposition which is reasonable, mild, kindly, and loving, how could poverty stand in our way? For we accomplish these things not by spending money but by making the correct choice.