Time is but a shadow, a dream; already God sees us in glory and takes joy in our eternal beatitude. How this thought helps my soul! I understand then why He lets us suffer.
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?'
Life is only a dream: soon, we shall awaken. And what joy! The greater our sufferings, the more limitless our glory. Oh! do not let us waste the trial Jesus sends.
How I loved the feasts!.... I especially loved the processions in honor of the Blessed Sacrament. What a joy it was for me to throw flowers beneath the feet of God!... I was never so happy as when I saw my roses touch the sacred Monstrance.
For one pain endured with joy, we shall love the good God more forever.
What a joy to remember that she is our Mother! Since she loves us and knows our weakness, what have we to fear?
I am simply content to find myself always imperfect, and in this I find my joy. Good deeds count as nothing, if done without love.
The more one advances, the more one sees the goal is still far off. And now I am simply resigned to see myself always imperfect and in this I find my joy.
Prayer is an aspiration of the heart, it is a simple glance directed to heaven, it is a cry of gratitude and love in the midst of trial as well as joy; finally, it is something great, supernatural, which expands my soul and unites it with Jesus.
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.
When we are expecting only suffering, the least joy surprises us: Suffering itself becomes the greatest of joys when we seek it as a precious treasure.
Apart from the Office [the daily prayer of the Church] which is a daily joy, I do not have the courage to search through books for beautiful prayers. ... Unable either to say them all or to choose between them, I do as a child would who cannot read - I just say what I want to say to God, quite simply, and he never fails to understand.
For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.
For me, prayer is an upward leap of the heart, an untroubled glance towards heaven, a cry of gratitude and love which I utter from the depths of sorrow as well as from the heights of joy.