It is this unquiet self-love that renders us so sensitive. The sick man, who sleeps ill, thinks the night long. We exaggerate, from cowardice, all the evils which we encounter; they are great, but our sensibility increases them. The true way to bear them is to yield ourselves up with confidence to God.

The history of the world suggests that without love of God there is little likelihood of a love for man that does not become corrupt.

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.

All wars are civil ones; for it is still man spilling his own blood, tearing out his own bowels.

There were some who said that a man at the point of death was more free than all others, because death breaks every bond, and over the dead the united world has no power.