Thérèse of Lisieux Quotes

One day she was playing on the swing when her father passed and called to her, "Come and give me a kiss, my little queen." Dérange-toi, Papa! Thérèse replied pertly — an untranslatable compound of "Come for it yourself" and "If you want it, you'll have to go the trouble of getting it", with perhaps even, "Don't be so lazy." Her father went by with a grave expression, but without a word, while Marie said: "You naughty little thing, how can you be so rude to your father?" I got off the swing at once; I had really learned my lesson, and the whole house echoed with my cries of contrition.

I am not dying; I am entering life.

Et le Seigneur se pencha, il cueillit doucement la fleur embaumée, il détacha sans effort sa grappe chérie du cep amer de l'exil, la trouvant totalement dorée des feux de l'Amour divin.

…you must be always as a drop of dew hidden in the heart of this beautiful Lily of the valley
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One must be so little to draw near to Jesus, and few are the souls that aspire to be little and unknown.
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Our Beloved needs neither our brilliant deeds nor our beautiful thoughts.
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The Lily of the valley asks but a single dewdrop, which for one night shall rest in its cup, hidden from all human eyes.

I feel that if You found a soul weaker and littler than mine, which is impossible, You [35]would be pleased to grant it still greater favors, provided it abandoned itself with total confidence to Your Infinite Mercy.

La perfección consiste en hacer su voluntad, en ser lo que él quiere que seamos...

I have often noticed that Jesus will not give me a store of provisions; He nourishes me with food that is entirely new from moment to moment, and I find it in my soul without knowing how it got there.

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.

Comprendí que para llegar a ser santa había que sufrir mucho, buscar siempre lo más perfecto y olvidarse de sí; comprendí que había muchos grados en la perfección y que cada alma [10vº] era libre de responder a las insinuaciones de nuestro Señor, de hacer poco o mucho por Él, en una palabra de elegir entre los sacrificios que Él pide. Entonces como en los días de mi infancia exclamé: «¡Dios mío, “lo elijo todo”. No quiero ser una santa a medias, no me da miedo sufrir por ti, lo único que temo es conservar mi voluntad.

"El otro día decía Celina: "¿Cómo puede estar Dios en una hostia tan pequeña?" Y la pequeña contesto: "Pues no es tan extraño, porque Dios es todopoderoso". "¿Y qué quiere decir todopoderoso?" "¡Pues que hace todo lo que quiere"...»"

I am but a weak and helpless child, yet it is my very weakness which makes me dare to offer myself, O Jesus, as victim to Thy Love.

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).

Can a victim of love find anything her Spouse sends terrible?

Instruct us, Father, gently in the secrets of your love.

O my Beloved! this was but the prelude of graces yet greater which Thou didst desire to heap upon me. Let me remind Thee of them to-day, and forgive my folly if I venture to tell Thee once more of my hopes, and my heart's well nigh infinite longings — forgive me and grant my desire, that it may be well with my soul. To be Thy Spouse, O my Jesus, to be a daughter of Carmel, and by my union with Thee to be the mother of souls, should not all this content me? And yet other vocations make themselves felt — I feel called to the Priesthood and to the Apostolate — I would be a Martyr, a Doctor of the Church. I should like to accomplish the most heroic deeds — the spirit of the Crusader burns within me, and I long to die on the field of battle in defence of Holy Church.

The vocation of a Priest! With what love, my Jesus, would I bear Thee in my hand, when my words brought Thee down from Heaven! With what love would I give Thee to souls! And yet, while longing to be a Priest, I admire and envy the humility of St. Francis of Assisi, and am drawn to imitate him by refusing the sublime dignity of the Priesthood. How reconcile these opposite tendencies?

Like the Prophets and Doctors, I would be a light unto souls, I would travel to every land to preach Thy name, O my Beloved, and raise on heathen soil the glorious standard of Thy Cross. One mission alone would not satisfy my longings. I would spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth, even to the most distant isles. I would be a Missionary, not for a few years only, but, were it possible, from the beginning of the world till the consummation of time. Above all, I thirst for the Martyr's crown. It was the desire of my earliest days, and the desire has deepened with the years passed in the Carmel's narrow cell. But this too is folly, since I do not sigh for one torment; I need them all to slake my thirst. Like Thee, O Adorable Spouse, I would be scourged, I would be crucified! I would be flayed like St. Bartholomew, plunged int