No Man Is Without His Load Of

Whatever You Do, Do It With Intelligence, And Keep The End In View.

How Sweet It Is To Love, And To Be Dissolved, And As It Were To Bathe Myself In Thy Love.

You Are A Man, Not God; You Are Human, Not An Angel. How Can You Expect To Remain Always In A Constant State Of Virtue, When This Was Not Possible Even For An Angel Of Heaven, Nor For The First Man In The Garden?

For They Truly Know Their Lord In The Breaking Of Bread, Whose Heart Within Them So Vehemently Burneth, Whilst Thou, O Blessed Jesus, Dost Walk And Converse With Them.

So Passes Away The Glory Of This World. ('sic Transit Gloria Mundi.')