What A Grand Thing, To

He Who Is Not Capable Of Enduring Poverty Is Not Capable Of Being Free.

The First Proof Of Charity In A Priest, And Especially A Bishop, Is Poverty.

Every Bad Institution Of This World Ends By Suicide.

Love Is Like A Tree, It Grows Of Its Own Accord, It Puts Down Deep Roots Into Our Whole Being.

The Poor Man Shuddered, Overflowed With An Angelic Joy; He Declared In His Transport That This Would Last Through Life; He Said To Himself That He Really Had Not Suffered Enough To Deserve Such Radiant Happiness, And He Thanked God, In The Depths Of His Soul, For Having Permitted That He, A Miserable Man, Should Be So Loved By This Innocent Being.