Francois Fenelon Quotes

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.

The Passion Of Acquiring Riches In Order To Support A Vain Expense Corrupts The Purest Souls.

Violent Excitement Exhausts The Mind And Leaves It Withered And Sterile.

It Is This Unquiet Self-love That Renders Us So Sensitive. The Sick Man, Who Sleeps Ill, Thinks The Night Long. We Exaggerate, From Cowardice, All The Evils Which We Encounter; They Are Great, But Our Sensibility Increases Them. The True Way To Bear Them Is To Yield Ourselves Up With Confidence To God.

Before Putting Yourself In Peril, It Is Necessary To Foresee And Fear It; But When One Is There, Nothing Remains But To Despise It.

God Felt, God Tasted And Enjoyed Is Indeed God, But God With Those Gifts Which Flatter The Soul, God In Darkness, In Privation, In Forsakenness, In Sensibility, Is So Much God, That He Is So To Speak God Bare And Alone. Shall We Fear This Death, Which Is To Produce In Us The True Divine Life Of Grace?

It Is Only By Fidelity In Little Things That The Grace Of True Love To God Can Be Sustained, And Distinguished From A Passing Fervor Of Spirit. . . . No One Can Well Believe That Our Piety Is Sincere, When Our Behavior Is Lax And Irregular In Its Little Details. What Probability Is There That We Should Not Hesitate To Make The Greatest Sacrifices, When We Shrink From The Smallest?

Prayer Is So Necessary, And The Source Of So Many Blessings, That He Who Has Discovered The Treasure Cannot Be Prevented From Having Recourse To It, Whenever He Has An Opportunity.

Let Us Endeavor To Commence Every Enterprise With A Pure View To The Glory Of God, Continue It Without Distraction, And Finish It Without Impatience.

It Is Often Our Own Imperfection Which Makes Us Reprove The Imperfection Of Others; A Sharp-sighted Self-love Of Others

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.

Our Piety Must Be Weak And Imperfect If It Do Not Conquer Our Fear Of Death.