There Is Never Any Peace

God Felt, God Tasted And Enjoyed Is Indeed God, But God With Those Gifts Which Flatter The Soul, God In Darkness, In Privation, In Forsakenness, In Sensibility, Is So Much God, That He Is So To Speak God Bare And Alone. Shall We Fear This Death, Which Is To Produce In Us The True Divine Life Of Grace?

Exactness And Neatness In Moderation Is A Virtue, But Carried To Extremes Narrows The Mind.

There Is No Real Elevation Of Mind In A Contempt Of Little Things; It Is, On The Contrary, From Too Narrow Views That We Consider Those Things Of Little Importance Which Have In Fact Such Extensive Consequences.

Thou Lovest Like An Infinite God When Thou Lovest; Thou Movest Heaven And Earth To Save Thy Loved Ones. Thou Becomest Man, A Babe, The Vilest Of Men, Covered With Reproaches, Dying With Infamy And Under The Pangs Of The Cross; All This Is Not Too Much For An Infinite Love.

There Is No True And Constant Gentleness Without Humility. While We Are So Fond Of Ourselves, We Are Easily Offended With Others. Let Us Be Persuaded That Nothing Is Due To Us, And Then Nothing Will Disturb Us. Let Us Often Think Of Our Own Infirmities, And We Will Become Indulgent Towards Those Of Others.