Where Good And Ill Together Blent, Wage

God Knows What Is My Greatest Happiness, But I Do Not. There Is No Rule About What Is Happy And Good; What Suits One Would Not Suit Another. And The Ways By Which Perfection Is Reached Vary Very Much; The Medicines Necessary For Our Souls Are Very Different From Each Other. Thus God Leads Us By Strange Ways; We Know He Wills Our Happiness, But We Neither Know What Our Happiness Is, Nor The Way. We Are Blind; Left To Ourselves We Should Take The Wrong Way; We Must Leave It To Him.

Religion Indeed Enlightens, Terrifies, Subdues; It Gives Faith, It Inflicts Remorse, It Inspires Resolutions, It Draws Tears, It Inflames Devotion, But Only For The Occasion.

There Are Wounds Of The Spirit Which Never Close And Are Intended In God's Mercy To Bring Us Nearer To Him, And To Prevent Us Leaving Him By Their Very Perpetuity. Such Wounds Then May Almost Be Taken As A Pledge, Or At Least As A Ground For A Humble Trust, That God Will Give Us The Great Gift Of Perseverance To The End. This Is How I Comfort Myself In My Own Great Bereavements.

It Is God Himself Who Can Be Discovered In The Beauty Of Sensible Things.

It Is Not God's Way That Great Blessings Should Descend Without The Sacrifice First Of Great Sufferings. If The Truth Is To Be Spread To Any Wide Extent Among The People, How Can We Dream, How Can We Hope, That Trial And Trouble Shall Not Accompany Its Going Forth.