Let us say it now: to be blind and to be loved, is indeed, upon this earth where nothing is complete, one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness.

You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving. The great acts of love are done by those who are habitually performing small acts of kindness. We pardon to the extent that we love. Love is knowing that even when you are alone, you will never be lonely again. & great happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved. Loved for ourselves. & even loved in spite of ourselves.

On this point, the priest and the philosopher agree: We must die.

To be perfectly happy it does not suffice to possess happiness, it is necessary to have deserved it.

Death belongs to God alone; by what right do men touch that unknown thing?

What love commences can be finished by God alone.

Those who always pray are necessary to those who never pray.