One Rarely Does Well What One Rarely

All True And Living Devotion Presupposes The Love Of God And Indeed It Is Neither More Nor Less Than A Very Real Love Of God, Though Not Always Of The Same Kind; For That Love One While Shining On The Soul We Call Grace, Which Makes Us Acceptable To His Divine Majesty; When It Strengthens Us To Do Well, It Is Called Charity; But When It Attains Its Fullest Perfection, In Which It Not Only Leads Us To Do Well, But To Act Carefully, Diligently, And Promptly, Then It Is Called Devotion.

Many Great Persons Have Been Of Opinion That Love Is No Other Thing Than Complacency Itself, In Which They Have Had Much Appearance Of Reason. For Not Only Does The Movement Of Love Take Its Origin From The Complacency Which The Heart Feels At The First Approach Of Good, And Find Its End In A Second Complacency Which Returns To The Heart By Union With The Thing Beloved--but Further, It Depends For Its Preservation On This Complacency, And Can Only Subsist Through It As Through Its Mother And Nurse; So That As Soon As The Complacency Ceases, Love Ceases.

There Is No Better Means Of Attainment To The Spiritual Life Than By Continually Beginning Again.

Where There Is Peace And Meditation, There Is Neither Anxiety Nor Doubt.

O My Child, Bethink You That Just As The Bee, Having Gathered Heaven's Dew And Earth's Sweetest Juices From Amid The Flowers, Carries It To Her Hive; So The Priest, Having Taken The Saviour, God's Own Son, Who Came Down From Heaven, The Son Of Mary, Who Sprang Up As Earth's Choicest Flower, From The Altar, Feeds You With That Bread Of Sweetness And Of All Delight.