If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.

The guest of our soul knows our misery; He comes to find an empty tent within us - that is all He asks.

When one loves, one does not calculate.

Perfect love means putting up with other peoples shortcomings, feeling no surprise at their weaknesses, finding encouragement even in the slightest evidence of good qualities in them.

Much later, when I understood what perfection was, I realized that to become a saint one must suffer a great deal, always seek what is best, and forget oneself. I understood that there were many kinds of of sanctity and that each soul was free to respond to the approaches of Our Lord and to do little or much for Him - in other words,to make a choice among the sacrifices He demands.

the storm thunders at my heart; I find it difficult to believe in the existence of anything except the clouds which limit my horizon.

You cannot be half a saint; you must be a whole saint or no saint at all.