To Read Without Writing Is To Sleep.

Shun, As You Would The Plague, A Cleric Who From Being Poor Has Become Wealthy, Or Who, From Being Nobody Has Become A Celebrity.

To Saints Their Very Slumber Is A Prayer.

Being Over Seventy Is Like Being Engaged In A War. All Our Friends Are Going Or Gone And We Survive Amongst The Dead And The Dying As On A Battlefield.

Even While Living In The World, The Heart Of Mary Was So Filled With Motherly Tenderness And Compassion For Men That No-one Ever Suffered So Much For Their Own Pains, As Mary Suffered For The Pains Of Her Children.

No Created Mind, No Created Heart, No Human Force Is Capable Of Knowing How Much Love The Heart Of Mary Had For The Lord.