O my God, what must a soul be like when it is in this state! It longs to be all one tongue with which to praise the Lord. It utters a thousand pious follies, in a continuous endeavor to please Him who thus possesses it.

All things must come to the soul from its roots, from where it is planted.

How friendly all men would be one with another, if no regard were paid to honour and money! I believe it would be a remedy for everything.

True love grows by sacrifice and the more thoroughly the soul rejects natural satisfaction the stronger and more detached its tenderness becomes.

This body of ours has one fault: the more you indulge it, the more things it discovers to be essential to it. It is extraordinary how it likes being indulged.

There is more value in a little study of humility and in a single act of it than in all the knowledge in the world.

For prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.