Reason Is God's Gift, But So Are

God Has Created Me To Do Him Some Definite Service; He Has Committed Some Work To Me Which He Has Not Committed To Another, I Have My Mission ... He Has Not Created Me For Naught ... If I Am In Sickness, My Sickness May Serve Him; If I Am In Sorrow, My Sorrow May Serve Him. He Does Nothing In Vain. He Knows What He Is About.

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.

I Loved The Garish Day, And, Spite Of Fears, Pride Ruled My Will: Remember Not Past Years.

A Cloud Of Incense Was Rising On High; The People Suddenly All Bowed Low; What Could It Mean? The Truth Flashed On Him, Fearfully Yet Sweetly; It Was The Blessed Sacrament - It Was The Lord Incarnate Who Was On The Altar, Who Had Come To Visit And Bless His People. It Was The Great Presence, Which Makes A Catholic Church Different From Every Other Place In The World; Which Makes It, As No Other Place Can Be - Holy.

Thought And Speech Are Inseparable From Each Other. Matter And Expression Are Parts Of One; Style Is A Thinking Out Into Language.