Violent excitement exhausts the mind, and leaves it withered and sterile.

It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are, the more gentle and quiet we become toward the defects of others.

The greater our dread of crosses, the more necessary they are for us.

Nothing marks so much the solid advancement of a soul, as the view of one’s wretchedness without anxiety and without discouragement.

Nothing is more despicable than a professional talker who uses his words as a quack uses his remedies.

When tempted, the shortest and surest way is to act like a little child at the breast; when we show it a frightful monster, it shrinks back and buries its face in its mother’s bosom, that it may no longer behold it.

You really don’t even own the present moment, for even this belongs to God.

Those who are wholly God’s are always happy.

God’s treasury where He keeps His children’s gifts will be like many a mother’s store of relics of her children, full of things of no value to others, but precious in His eyes for the love’s sake that was in them.

Listen less to your own thoughts and more to God’s thoughts.