At the time of Holy Communion I sometimes picture my soul under the figure of a little child of three or four years, who at play has got its hair tossed and its clothes soiled. These misfortunes have befallen me in battling with souls. But very soon the Blessed Virgin hastens to my aid: quickly, she takes off my dirty little pinafore, smoothes my hair and adorns it with a pretty ribbon or simply with a little flower... and this suffices to render me pleasing and enables me to sit at the Banquet of Angels without blushing.

I will send a shower of roses.

(Her last words) Oh! I love Him! My God, I love You!

She is more Mother than Queen.

I realized that to become a saint one must suffer a great deal, always seek what is best, and forget oneself.

I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifice to all ecstasies. To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul.

Suffering is the very best gift He has to give us. He gives it only to His chosen friends.