SENTIMENTS OF SOUL 1944

July 20

Jesus, can the dead talk, can the heart of a corpse to feel a longing for Heaven and be determined to fly to You? It is crazy, crazy to be hidden, to be lost in the immensity of Your Divine Love!

Jesus, Jesus, it is my pain that talks to You, and lives; it's a pain that speaks to us, and lives; it is such a pain that it encompasses all other pains.

Jesus, I feel that my body is no longer a corpse which earthworms have not entered, a corpse that, a few days after being lowered into the grave, can still be recognized. No, my Jesus, no, my body is not even ashes; everything has disappeared.

Oh my God, what was my death, what a lost eternity! Listen, Jesus, have mercy, look upon me, read in my pain! It is for You, for souls. Weigh what this death of mine caused me; see how, in Your absence, I cannot resist the great longing for Heaven and with such an anxiety to love You, I no longer wish to be here.

The night has no stars, there is no sun. Oh pain, pain; I only live, I only live, I only live, but I do not love, I do not love Jesus, I do not live for Jesus.

Hear, O Lord, my cry! I offer You my cry! What will become of me, my God, what will become of me without You.

O fight, fight, O tremendous fight!

Jesus, a year ago my martyrdom in Foz ended (she refers to the hospital where her fast was monitored): I remember those forty days and everything I suffered there. Do You take account, Jesus, of so painful a martyrdom? I did not actually go back to Foz, but I can almost say that I suffered as much as when I was there. You arranged it, O my good Jesus, so that I relived everything: my blood was dripping into the ground drop by drop; I relived everything, Jesus. Take account of all my pain and, for souls, shut the gates of hell.

Make it so that I love You and cause You to be loved: I hunger to give You the entire world.

Oh, my Jesus, my longing I not a longing for food; it is not my body that feels hunger and thirst, because I no longer exist, but it is a heart, it is a soul outside of me that hungers and thirsts! You understood, my Jesus, that it was the fierce pain that forced me to speak: I would give everything, I would give the world, I would give life itself, if possible, just for a little food.

What cravings, what anxieties, my Jesus, of having everything in order to give everything! I'm crazy, I'm crazy, Jesus, I want to love You, I want to give You souls.

Jesus, after all this, I do not know what pain is, I do not know what suffering is, I am unaware of all, nothing belongs to me. Turn your divine eyes towards me, I want to fix mine forever on You. Have mercy, Jesus, have mercy.

July 27

The darkness of night, the horrors of death!

The cry of pain continues, Jesus; listen, it is  pain that cries, it is a pain that cries for your help.

Jesus, it is a pain that feels pain, it is pain that has no other life except pain: everything else, my Jesus, everything else has fallen into the tomb, has gone to eternity. I don’t see light; it seems to me, O my God, that I have never seen light, I do not know what the moon is, nor the brightness of the sun, nor the twinkling of the stars. I do not know what life is or the love of Jesus.

Oh my God! How can this state be, one that has life and has a heart that feels, and what does it feel? It feels it has been torn and pierced by a sharp spear, feels that it cannot be more wounded, yet feels that after being so mistreated it still has more hearts to be pierced by more sharp spears, calling to mind the Mother of the Sorrows. Great cruelty and ingratitude! And what have I done for You and for my Heavenly Mother?!

But, even more, my pain has eyes that weep tears of blood and cry continuously in greatest bitterness; it has feet and hands to be crucified, it has a head to be crowned with thorns that penetrate as far as the ear, while the pain invades the whole body.

Jesus, I am scared, I do not know what my pain foresees. Oh, what horror! Everything is storm, threatening. I hear the howling of the wind, the echoes of terrible thunder, threats of destruction: everything flees in terror and I am alone at sea, without a boat, without a rudder and without light; I am about to sink forever in the abyss of the sea!

Horror! Horror! Storm rips the clouds, the sky opens up and hurls retribution against the land. My God, my Jesus, what am I still doing here?

Into Thy most holy arms I surrender myself.

August 1

Listen, Jesus, my pain is almost dying. It received a powerful blow! Oh pain, pain that kills pain, pain that can only be known by Jesus!

With my eyes on You, Jesus, slander, humiliation, scorn, hatred, forgetfulness contain the sweetness of Thy love. May anything come, O Jesus; whatever pleases You.

May my name die, as I feel that my body and my soul have died, so that your divine love may live in hearts and Thy grace in souls. May this be so, my Beloved, because I allowed myself to be immolated.

But how to endure so much? O Jesus, look upon this heart that explodes, it is broken in pain and cannot endure so much pressure if you do not come to help.

Come, come, Lord Jesus! Help, help, Jesus! They want to deprive me of everything; they threaten to stop me from receiving You, to prohibit the parish Priest from coming to me, unless my life is in danger, if I do not obey.

I obey, I obey, my Jesus, with the help of Thy divine grace! O holy obedience, I love you for Jesus and for souls!

They put me in public without my consent, I knew nothing; and now, my Jesus, they want, at the expense of my pain, to catch the feathers that such a furious wind has spread. How, Jesus, how?

Oh, never again, my Jesus, never more. Oh, if I could live hidden; oh, if I could love You as much as I desire, to be yours, my Jesus, as much as possible, but forgive me, O Jesus, forgive me, for not having a life like this!

Oh, how many saints there are who know nothing of this life, and me, my Jesus, full of misery!

Oh, how I miss the years that have gone by! So many conversations I have had with You that nobody knew about! I would give lives, my Jesus, I would give worlds to live hidden.

Forgive me, Jesus, I want, but I have no will.

My God, if I knew that, with my suffering, your consolation was complete! If I could live closed in this little room, and only You, my Jesus, and these poor walls being witnesses of my pain, without my family and all those I love being unable to remember that I lived here and that I had never lived in their company, then I might suffer no longer. But I see that what suffers most is your divine Heart, and that those who are dear to me suffer with me; they cannot forget me: that hurts me the most.

How many times am I unable to hold back the tears, blind, blind with pain!

Then it occurs to me that it is more perfect not to cry, because not crying pleases Jesus more. I fix my eyes on the Crucified, I raise them to Heaven, I stay for some time contemplating Jesus and soon the tears, that I had thought would never end, stop: I feel new life.

My God, what a tremendous fight! Woe is me without You! Jesus, Heavenly Mother, help me: I am your victim! O Little Flower, St. Gemma, O St. Joseph and all my dear Saints, save me! O Heaven, O Heaven, I trust in you.

Never, my Jesus, let me to be tired, never let my lips stop repeating: I love You, Jesus, I am your victim.

Let men give me the sentence they want, no matter. You, Lord Jesus, give me the grace to cope with their sentence in order to love Thee and give Thee souls.

Jesus, I don’t see my past or the present, I only see the future: I see my blood running among thorns; my pain moves in a tremendous and dark night, and my life walks along with it, bathing itself in it.

Oh my God, what torment; I cannot tell You what I feel: I suffer and the pain disappears as I suffer. Nothing belongs to me and I'm dying for pain, Jesus, and I thirst for more pain.

Jesus, only You understand me: I'm hungry, I am thirsty, I die, I die, O Jesus!

August 10

Jesus, I look to one side, I look to the other, I see no one: I fear and I tremble: what horror! The fight does not cease; through the darkness I see my blood running and the pain almost dying as it follows. Blood and pain, death and eternity.

Hear, O Jesus, hear, O Heavenly Mother: it is an agonizing pain, is there no one have pity on my pain? Look, look, O Jesus, see I am soaked in blood.

Jesus, Jesus, do not leave me without receiving You: let me lose everything, everything, but the Eucharist; to lose everything, but to have You!

When I hear laughter outside, as of one who experiencing a great joy, I do not want the same for myself, though I almost felt an urge to do so.

My God, how life is so misunderstood! If it was not for the love of Jesus, if it were not for souls, I would not be subject to the judgments of men, and I needn’t obey them.

These thoughts went fast as lightning. And I felt pleased to be able to replace all happiness for the love of Jesus. Jesus, Jesus is worthy of everything. Souls, souls!

This thought vibrated inside me and ignited an even stronger desire to walk among thorns, bathed in blood, only in blood. It gave me a clear understanding of what Jesus is and what the world is.

My God, I get up here to fall over there. The struggle continues. I miss my crucifixion on Fridays, but I have a horror of the ecstasies. I fear Fridays, I fear first Saturdays, I fear any day or hour, my Jesus, in which You deign to talk to me.

Will this not be perfect? Have pity, have pity. I fear my weakness, I fear to waver, the suffering horrifies me, but I trust in You. My will is Thine, only Thine, my Jesus.

What am I doing here? Do not let me be a disgrace to souls. I preoccupied myself so much when it is said that only certain things are needed to pacify them.

O Jesus, I hope in Thee, I trust in You. Calm my poor soul.

A few hours passed; it was late at night, very late. Everything at home was at rest, only my pain, my tremendous struggle continued. Jesus came suddenly. He clasped me in flames of love.

— Give me your hand, my daughter. Didn’t I promise to raise you from your weakness? Come into the arms of your Heavenly Mother, come and take comfort.

I was soon in the arms of the Heavenly Mother and, like a child, I threw my arms around her neck. She pressed me gently and stroked me covering my face with kisses. I do not know if I was crying or not, but I felt that I was crying. She cleaned my tears with Her blessed mantle and said to me:

— Do not cry. Console your Jesus, and mine, with Me: He is so offended! Come, take courage!

Jesus, who was by my side, said to me:

— Your pain, my daughter, your martyrdom grasps from the clutches of Satan souls that he stole from Me with so much malice. Hell is closed, and he is furious. Courage: the storm passes! Receive grace, receive the love and light of the divine Holy Spirit.

And on a very rich throne I saw the divine Holy Spirit as a dove, pouring on me from above golden rays, like ribbons of various colors, all filled with brightness. Everything was beautiful and bright. I was stronger. Shortly after, I slept in sweet peace.