Saint Therese Of Lisieux Quotes

The world's thy ship and not thy home.

Just as the sun shines on all the trees and flowers as if each were the only one on earth, so does God care for all souls in a special manner.

My God, I choose everything, I will not be a Saint by halves, I am not afraid of suffering for Thee, I only fear one thing, and that is to do my own will. Accept the offering of my will, for I choose all that Thou willest.

Thus the ordinary, uncontrolled chattering we call “prose” changes its nature, like coal becoming incandescent. Poetry resembles music.

May God give us the grace of becoming like little children, full of joy and energy with which we can love other people.

We can discover that of the rough material we’ve been given, every single thread of what we’ll eventually contribute back to the tapestry of all humanity is every bit as important, needed, wanted, and cherished as every and any other scrap and thread.

I have not the courage to make myself search for wonderful prayers in books; there are so many of them, and it gives me a headache. In any case, each one seems more beautiful than the one before. As I cannot day all of them, and do not know which to choose, I just act like a child who can't read; I tell God, quite simply, all that I want to say, and He always understands. Prayer, for me, is simply a raising of the heart, a simple glance towards Heaven, an expression of love and gratitude in the midst of trial, as well as in times of joy; in a word, it is something noble and supernatural expanding my soul and uniting it to God.

Within our own families, may we serve as a light to each other.

Translating poetry means taking a risk. The poetry of St. Thérèse, so simple, fresh, and pure, is particularly challenging to render into another language.

When we’re misunderstood and judged unfavorably, what good does it do to defend or explain ourselves?

Therese felt clearly that she could not become a saint through her own efforts alone. Her own merits or her good works could not save her. In this way she was simply agreeing with the message of the Gospel and of St. Paul: We are not saved by our deeds, by what we accomplish. We are saved by grace, by mercy, and this grace is received through faith and trust.

one of my biggest illusions was that other people were meant to assuage my anxiety by filling some lack that I was responsible for filling myself. If I wanted to give, the giving had to be “for fun and for free.” The giving couldn’t be out of guilt, nor because I secretly wanted to get something back, nor because I wanted the other person to respond in such a way as to satisfy my longing to be useful. Thérèse

Pray with a friend this week. I know Christ dwells within me all the time, guiding me and inspiring me whenever I do or say anything. A light of which I caught no glimmer before comes to me at the very moment when it is needed. SAINT THERESE OF LISIEUX Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure-pressed down, shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return. -LUKE 6:38 The world waits until someone gives before giving back; however, Scripture tells us to give first, then it will be added unto us. We can do this with our love, affection, material things; with our friendship, help, and attention. You might have grown up with a limited, conditional kind of giving. If so, it is time for healing. We are so fortunate to have the ultimate example of "giving first" in our Lord. He gave unconditional love, He gave His life, He gives His mercy and grace. St. Francis of Assisi's words are a great encouragement to live as an instrument of God's giving goodness. Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there

I am now at a time of life when I can look back on the past, for my soul has been refined in the crucible of interior and exterior trials. Now, like a flower after the storm, I can raise my head and see that the words of the Psalm are realised in me: "The Lord is my Shepherd and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up on the water of refreshment. He hath converted my soul. He hath led me on the paths of justice for His own Name's sake. For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils for Thou are with me."[6]

He [Jesus] opened the book of nature before me, and I saw that every flower He has created has a beauty of its own, that the splendor of the rose and the lily's whiteness do not deprive the violet of it's scent nor make less ravishing the daisy's charm. I saw that if every little flower wished to be a rose, Nature would lose her spring adornments , and the fields would be no longer enameled with their varied flowers. So it is in the world of souls, the living garden of the Lord. It please Him to create great Saints, who may be compared with the lilies or the rose, but He has also created little ones, who must be content to be daisies or violets, nestling at His feet to delight His eyes when He should choose to look at them... What delights Him is the simplicity of these flowers of the field, and by stooping so low to them, He shows how infinitely great He is. Just as the sun shines equally on the cedar and the little flower, so the Divine Sun shines equally on everyone, great and small.

On the contrary, that someone as weak and

If we examine the poems of Thérèse of Lisieux at all, they reveal themselves richer than we first thought. And this is the problem with her poetry: We have to go beyond the simple style, which is naturally and deliberately artless—as is fitting for a “Carmelite poem”—to discover the treasures it conceals.

For Thérèse, poetry was not “art for amusement,” because she did not write for her own satisfaction but out of duty, or at least with a concern to serve, to help, and to encourage.6

The one, more Latin, more Roman, closer to eloquence than to the literal word, aims at a certain effect, at magic. The other, more Greek, more Hellenistic, seeks transparency flowing from the source.

If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.” ― St. Therese of Lisieux

But Our Lady allowed this trouble to befall me for the good of my soul; without it, vanity might have crept into my heart, whereas now I was humbled, and looked at myself with profound contempt. My God, Thou alone knowest all that I suffered.

You know well enough that Our Lord does not look so much at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty, but at the love with which we do them. Saint Therese of Lisieux.

THE science of love! Sweet is the echo of that word to the ear of my soul. I desire no other science. Having given all my substance for it, like the spouse in the Canticles, I think that I have given nothing. (Cant. 8:7).

IN order that Love may be fully satisfied it must needs stoop to very nothingness and transform that nothing into fire.

And so it is in the world of souls, Our Lord’s living garden.

Now, like a flower after the storm, I can raise my head and see that the words of the Psalm are realized in me: “The Lord is my Shepherd and J shall want nothing. He has set me in a place of pasture. He has brought me up on the water of refreshment. He has converted my soul. He has led me on the paths of justice for His Own Name’s sake. For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils for Thou art with me.” (cf. Psalms 23).

All is vanity besides loving God and serving Him alone.

She [Saint Therese of Lisieux] knew, Michael said, what Dostoyevsky knew: There's a kind of web around the world, an electric web in which we're all united, all connected in suffering and in love. when you add to it what you have, you add to the circuitry of love.

However, you are shocked at the thought of seeing her trite letters being published. But I will answer you by what I say to myself: 1. In the case of a Saint, nothing is trite. Even in Sacred Scripture, how many parts we would have eliminated had the Lord consulted us! We would have been mistaken! We have to take God’s work as it is and to meditate on it insofar as we are capable of understanding it and drawing out suitable lessons. 2. As for Thérèse, we must be careful. What seems trite (especially to Céline, who knows all, who knows much more than all that has been written!) can be filled with usefulness for history and for the edification of simple souls, who will be responsive to what they find “within their reach.

Josemaria, in his life and ministry, showed that it is possible for Catholics to have both a priestly soul and a lay mentality. It is possible for both priests and laypeople. He revered the work of religious orders; and their saints, such as St. Ignatius Loyola and St. Therese of Lisieux, had no small influence on his spirituality. For many years his spiritual director was a Jesuit, and the founder trained the first members of Opus Dei with St. Therese's Story of a Soul. We can hear echoes of St. Ignatius's phrase “contemplatives in action” in St. Josemaria's “contemplatives in the middle of the world.” We can hear echoes of St. Therese's “Little Way” in the founder's own emphasis on “little things.” Still, by divine disposition, his ways were distinctively not their ways.

Thérèse may not have been brought to a spiritual crisis in the particular way I had been—through alcoholism—but she had been brought to a crisis by a “neurotic illness”: her hypersensitivity, her inability to put the desire to please God before the desire to be noticed, coddled, and loved, which—along with the neurological glitch that gives rise to the phenomenon of craving and the “allergic” response that gives rise to mental obsession—is really what alcoholism consists of. Görres’s description of the lightning-quick opening that takes place below the strata of consciousness paralleled the “yes” I’d given to getting sober: a consent to grow up, take on the responsibilities of adulthood, and orient my life toward service.

and I realized that real nobility is in the soul, not in a name.

Who hasn’t, in one form or another, awakened too late to “the awareness of things ill done and done to others’ harm which once you took for exercise of virtue”?