Nothing Is Easier Than Sinning.

I Am More Afraid Of My Own Heart Than Of The Pope And All His Cardinals. I Have Within Me The Great Pope, Self.

God Writes The Gospel Not In The Bible Alone, But Also On Trees, And In The Flowers And Clouds And Stars.

That Little Bird Has Chosen His Shelter. Above It Are The Stars And The Deep Heaven Of Worlds. Yet He Is Rocking Himself To Sleep Without Caring For Tomorrow's Lodging, Calmly Clinging To His Little Twig, And Leaving God To Think For Him.

He Who Believes In God Is Not Careful For The Morrow, But Labors Joyfully And With A Great Heart. "for He Giveth His Beloved, As In Sleep." They Must Work And Watch, Yet Never Be Careful Or Anxious, But Commit All To Him, And Live In Serene Tranquility; With A Quiet Heart, As One Who Sleeps Safely And Quietly.

There Are Some Of Us Who Think To Ourselves, 'if I Had Only Been There! How Quick I Would Have Been To Help The Baby. I Would Have Washed His Linen. How Happy I Would Have Been To Go With The Shepherds To See The Lord Lying In The Manger!' Why Don't We Do It Now? We Have Christ In Our Neighbor.