St. Augustine

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 None can become fit for the future life, who hath read more

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 None can become fit for the future life, who hath not practiced himself for it now.

Of this I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die some time. Now read more

Of this I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die some time. Now the end of life puts the longest life on a par with the shortest... And of what consequence is it what kind of death puts an end to life, since he who has died once is not forced to go through the same ordeal a second time? They, then, who are destined to die, need not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place death will usher them.

Picture God as saying to you, "My son, why is it that day by day you rise, and pray, and read more

Picture God as saying to you, "My son, why is it that day by day you rise, and pray, and genuflect, and even strike the ground with your forehead, nay sometimes even shed tears, while you say to Me: 'My Father, give me wealth!' If I were to give it to you, you would think yourself of some importance, you would fancy that you had gained something very great. Because you asked for it, you have it. But take care to make good use of it. Before you had it, you were humble; now that you have begun to be rich you despise the poor. What kind of a good is that which only makes you worse? For worse you are, since you were bad already. And that it would make you worse you knew not; hence you asked it of Me. I gave it to you, and I proved you; you have found -- and you have found out! Ask of Me better things than these, greater things than these. Ask of Me spiritual things. Ask of Me Myself!".

This is the very perfection of a man, to find out his own imperfection.

This is the very perfection of a man, to find out his own imperfection.

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 Too late came I to love thee, O thou Beauty so read more

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 Too late came I to love thee, O thou Beauty so ancient and so fresh, yea too late came I to love thee. And behold, thou wert within me, and I out of myself, where I made search for thee: I ugly rushed headlong upon those beautiful things thou hast made. Thou indeed wert with me; but I was not with thee: these beauties kept me far enough from thee: even those, which unless they were in thee, should not be at all.