Whoever Possesses God Is Happy.

What Art Thou Then, My God? What, But The Lord God? For Who Is Lord But The Lord? Or Who Is God Save Our God? Most Highest, Most Good, Most Potent, Most Omnipotent; Most Merciful, Yet Most Just; Most Hidden, Yet Most Present; Most Beautiful, Yet Most Strong; Stable, Yet Incomprehensible; Unchangeable, Yet All-changing; Never New, Never Old; All-renewing, And Bringing Age Upon The Proud, And They Know It Not; Ever Working, Ever At Rest; Still Gathering, Yet Nothing Lacking; Supporting, Filling, And Overspreading; Creating, Nourishing, And Maturing; Seeking, Yet Having All Things.

The Soul Is "torn Apart In A Painful Condition As Long As It Prefers The Eternal Because Of Its Truth But Does Not Discard The Temporal Because Of Familiarity.

The Ministry Is A Weight From Which Even An Angel Might Shrink

Where Love Is, What Can Be Wanting? Where It Is Not, What Can Possibly Be Profitable?

Who Can Map Out The Various Forces At Play In One Soul? Man Is A Great Depth, O Lord. The Hairs Of His Head Are Easier By Far To Count Than His Feeling, The Movements Of His Heart.