All Wars Are Civil Wars, Because All

Let Us Pray God That He Would Root Out Of Our Hearts Every Thing Of Our Own Planting, And Set Out There, With His Own Hands, The Tree Of Life, Bearing All Manner Of Fruits.

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.

Speak, Move, Act In Peace, As If You Were In Prayer. In Truth, This Is Prayer.

Mankind, By The Perverse Depravity Of Their Nature, Esteem That Which They Have Most Desired As Of No Value The Moment It Is Possessed, And Torment Themselves With Fruitless Wishes For That Which Is Beyond Their Reach.

When You Come To Be Sensibly Touched, The Scales Will Fall From Your Eyes; And By The Penetrating Eyes Of Love You Will Discern That Which Your Other Eyes Will Never See.