We love a saint, though he has many personal failings. There is no perfection here.
In some, rash anger prevails; in some, inconstancy; in some, too much love of the world.
A saint in this life is like gold in the ore, much dross of infirmity cleaves to him, yet we love
him for the grace that is in him.
A saint is like a fair face with a scar: we love the beautiful face of holiness, though there be a scar in it.
The best emerald has its blemishes, the brightest stars their twinklings, and the best of the saints have their failings.
You that cannot love another because of his infirmities, how would you have God love you?
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter;
it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor.
The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid daily on my back,
a load so heavy that only humility can carry it…