Ponder the fact that God has made you a gardener, to root out vice and plant virtue.
St. Catherine Of SienaRead
Everything comes from love, all is ordained for the salvation of man, God does nothing without this goal in mind.
Interpretation
Love is the fundamental force behind all creation and divine intent.
This quote by St. Catherine of Siena emphasizes the central role of love in the universe and in God's plans for humanity. It suggests that everything that happens is guided by love, ultimately aiming for the salvation and betterment of mankind, indicating a divine purpose in all of existence.
In practice
During a speech on the importance of compassion, one could quote this to highlight the necessity of love in our actions.
Ponder the fact that God has made you a gardener, to root out vice and plant virtue.
When it seems that God shows us the faults of others, keep on the safer side-it may be that your judgment is false. On your lips let silence abide. And any vice that you may ascribe to others, ascribe at once to them and yourself, in true humility. If that vice really exists in a person, he will correct himself better, seeing himself so gently understood, and will say of his own accord the thing that you would have said to him.
O unfathomable depth! O Deity eternal! O deep ocean! What more could You give me than to give me Yourself?
To a brave man, good and bad luck are like his left and right hand. He uses both.
There is no perfect virtue-none that bears fruit- unless it is exercised by means of our neighbor.
Eternal Trinity... mystery deep as the sea, You could give me no greater gift than the gift of Yourself. For You are a fire ever burning and never consumed, which itself consumes all the selfish love that fills my being.
It's forgiveness that makes us what we are. Without forgiveness, our species would've annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without that hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive.
When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?
The tears that kept Buttercup company the remainder of the day were not at all like those that had blinded her into the tree trunk. Those were noisy and hot; they pulsed. These were silent and steady and all they did was remind her that she wasn’t good enough. She was seventeen, and every male she’d ever known had crumbled at her feet and it meant nothing. The one time it really mattered, she wasn’t good enough.
It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.
To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.
Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?
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