I do not believe in my pain, or in what I say, or in what I do; everything seems lie, a complete hoax. I feel that this is so, but by the grace of God I find nothing in me that can be called a hoax. What I suffer is for Jesus and for souls, what I do is with my eyes on Him and on His love. Someone judges me by the way I feel, therefore I suffer even more. What would I be if Jesus did not see and did not know everything? What I want is to please Him and to comfort Him with this painful life, which is not life or, if it is, it does not belong to me. Everything passes, everything escapes me; everything passes, I have been robbed of everything, yet I am always here, my heaven does not come.

So as not to waste my words with Jesus, I donít ask Him about it. But O, what longing and suffering; much of the time it seems unbearable!

It is in the midst of the pain that the heart is losing its life. It is unable to resist. I cannot explain my torment. It is true that Jesus suffers in me, but it is still me that  the pain dominates. I become faint. I feel that death is walking towards me, the death I so wish for, the death that I want to call life, the death that will take me to enjoy Jesus and the Heavenly Mother.

I will leave my sadness, pains and sorrows then, I will ask love for all those I love, I will ask for the whole world. Iíll not forget those who are the cause of so much of my suffering: I will ask for them, I want Jesus to give them love, I want Him to give them heaven.

I feel I am the world, a world of the hardest rock, and feel as if I'm locked within that world. I have to turn that hard stone rock into precious stones, into pure gold.

What an effort it is for me being in this rock and not being able to move anywhere! I have to move, to be able to work, I have to make it a beautiful world, pleasing to Jesus, full of charms for all heaven.

O Jesus, see this crazy girl, behold the martyrdom that consumes her! What can I do for the world, how shall I change it? How will I console and gladden Thy Divine Heart?

I have missed the action of the Holy Spirit. It seems to me that I donít have His graces, His lights. I'm poor, I have nothing and can have nothing.

What will become of me, my Jesus! I cannot live without You, without You I can suffer nothing.

I offered Jesus another attack of the demon in response for souls He had asked sacrifices for. The more violent attacks are for them, the others are for those for whom Jesus sees fit.

What ugly things the malicious one tells me about people, to teach me to sin, and about Jesus, accusing Him of great evils!

Horror, horror! What costs me most is to hear him say things against Jesus!

During some attacks, I feel that I myself am hell with all the sufferings and horrors and that I myself am the devil with all the conniving and all the malice.

I cannot explain myself better, what I know is that sometimes I am truly hell, a real demon.

He appeared to me in the form of very ugly man, dressed as a hunter, a gun slung over his back, walking in front of me. Beside him were many demons in the form of skeletons, with guns pointing straight at me. They caused me grief, but I didnít feel great fear. They could not kill me.

I fear more that they might kill my soul with other things they do and say. Oh, how I fear offending my Jesus!

I cannot remember that today is Thursday. What suffering these sad days bring me!  During the afternoon, I felt myself passing through the streets, all who saw me followed  my path and pointed at me and mocked me and accused me of breaking all laws and of being the greatest criminal. Shortly after dark, I felt I was among friends, and in this company I felt there was a traitor, who shortly was to kiss me, and I felt the pain that his kiss would cause me. I felt that I was Jesus and that on my chest leaned a face that I really loved. My heart flamed up in love at the sight of that face. 

What conversation of so many mysteries, of so much greatness! I felt that in this company I washed the feet of all those around me. In me was the water, towel and basin. I felt that one, who caused such a fuss about having his feet washed, asked, after a look and a few words, to be undressed, if need be, and have his whole body washed. Ah, if I could express all the love here, all goodness and tenderness of JesusÖ how much good would it do to souls! But I donít know any better.

Make up, Jesus, for my faults.