Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers, and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love.

In spite of this trial, which takes all enjoyment from me, I can never the less, cry out, ‘Lord, you fill me with joy in all that you do. For is there a joy greater than to suffer for love?’

Never stop wanting for your magic.

For me, prayer means launching out of the heart towards God; it means lifting up one’s eyes, quite simply, to heaven, a cry of grateful love, from the crest of joy or the trough of despair; it’s a vast, supernatural force which opens out my heart, and binds me close to Jesus.

How happy I am to see myself as imperfect and to be in need of God’s mercy.

I say nothing to him I love him.

My director, Jesus, does not teach me to count my acts, but to do everything for love, to refuse Him nothing, to be pleased when He gives me a chance to prove to Him that I love Him – but all this in peace – in abandonment.

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

Holiness is a disposition of the heart that makes us humble and little in the arms of God, aware of our weakness, and confident – in the most audacious way – in His Fatherly goodness.

The science of loving, yes, that’s the only kind of science I want I’d barter away everything I possess to win it.