Heaven for me is hidden in a little Host Where Jesus, my Spouse, is veiled for love. I go to that Divine Furnace to draw out life, And there my Sweet Saviour listens to me night and day.

Love consumes us only in the measure of our self-surrender.

Jesus needs neither books nor Doctors of Divinity in order to instruct souls; He, the Doctor of Doctors, He teaches without noise of words.

How can the good God Who loves us so much, be happy when we suffer? Never does our suffering make Him happy; but it is necessary for us, and so He sends it to us while, as it were, turning away His Face. . . I assure you that it costs Him dearly to fill us with bitterness.

I will send a shower of roses.

No harm can come to me since, in whatever happens, I see only the tender hand of Jesus.

I want to give myself totally to Him...I want to live no longer but for Him.