There Is Never Any Peace For Those

The More You Say, The Less People Remember.

Pity Enlarges The Heart.

Even If No Command To Pray Had Existed, Our Very Weakness Would Have Suggested It.

A Cross Borne In Simplicity, Without The Interference Of Self-love To Augment It, Is Only Half A Cross. Suffering In This Simplicity Of Love, We Are Not Only Happy In Spile Of The Cross, But Because Of It; For Love Is Pleased In Suffering For The Well Beloved, And The Cross Which Forms Us Into His Image Is A Consoling Bond Of Love.

Sordid And Infamous Sensuality, The Most Dreadful Evil That Issued From The Box Of Pandora, Corrupts Every Heart, And Eradicates Every Virtue. Fly! Wherefore Dost Thou Linger? Fly, Cast Not One Look Behind Thee; Nor Let Even Thy Thought Return To The Accursed Evil For A Moment.