Therese Of Lisieux

My director, Jesus, does not teach me to count my acts, but to do everything for love, to refuse Him nothing, to be pleased when He gives me a chance to prove to Him that I love Him - but all this in peace - in abandonment.

No harm can come to me since, in whatever happens, I see only the tender hand of Jesus.

At last there dawned the most beautiful day of all the days of my life. How perfectly I remember even the smallest details of those sacred hours! The joyful awakening, the reverent and tender embraces of my mistresses and older companions, the room filled with white frocks, like so many snowflakes, where each child was dressed in turn.

If I am despised by the world, If it considers me as nothing, A divine peace flood me. For I have the Host as my support. When I draw near the ciborium, All my sighs are heard... To be nothing is my glory. I am the atom of Jesus.

When we are expecting only suffering, the least joy surprises us: Suffering itself becomes the greatest of joys when we seek it as a precious treasure.

True charity consists in putting up with all one's neighbors fault's; never being surprised by his weakness, and being inspired by the least of his virtues.

Why should we defend ourselves when we are misunderstood and misjudged? Let us leave that aside. Let us not say anything. It is so sweet to let others judge us in any way they like. O blessed silence, which gives so much peace to the soul!

God would turn the world around to find suffering in order to give it to a soul upon whom He has set His Divine gaze with ineffable love.

I want to give myself totally to Him...I want to live no longer but for Him.

If all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wildflowers.

Do you realize that Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you- for you alone? He burns with the desire to come into your heart... don't listen to the demon, laugh at him, and go without fear to receive the Jesus of peace and love.

If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.

For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.

The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.