Everything in Irenaeus is bathed in a warm and radiant joy, a wise and majestic gentleness. His words of struggle are hard as iron and crystal clear,. . . so penetrating that they cannot fail to enlighten the unbiased observer.
Reason is the slave of passion.
He was one of the numerous and varied legion of dullards, of half-animated abortions, conceited, half-educated coxcombs, who attach themselves to the idea most in fashion only to vulgarize it and who caricature every cause they serve, however sincerely.
Every man has some reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but only to his friends. He has others which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But finally there are still others which a man is even afraid to tell himself, and every decent man has a considerable number of such things stored away. That is, one can even say that the more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his mind.
There is immeasurably more left inside than what comes out in words.
Men like to to count their troubles; few calculate their happiness.
To love is to suffer and there can be no love otherwise.
Look at what people are trying to conceal, and you’ll see that they’re revealing everything.
Explain to me again the difference between superstitious beliefs or pagan incantations, and scientific ones. Be braver - you cannot cross a chasm in two small jumps.
It's going to be really weird to know that people are going to actually know my name, that's going to be strange.
In the end, we are not the roles we play. We are the light that animates every soul in the dance we call life.