The More Perfect A Thing Is, The

Love Is The Source Of Every Virtue In You And Of Every Deed Which Deserves Punishment.

Like The Lark That Soars In The Air, First Singing, Then Silent, Content With The Last Sweetness That Satiates It, Such Seemed To Me That Image, The Imprint Of The Eternal Pleasure.

Compassion Is Not A Passion; Rather A Noble Disposition Of The Soul, Made Ready To Receive Love, Mercy, And Other Charitable Passions.

Infinite Goodness Has Such Wide Arms.

No One Thinks Of How Much Blood It Costs.