— Come to me, my daughter, crazed with pain and love. It is pain that saves souls, it is the intensity of love for me.
If the world knew this life of love, the oneness of Jesus with the virgin soul, with the soul who He chooses for his spouse!
But it does not know and because it does not know, it slanders it, despise it, hounds it down.
O my beautiful dove, you are mother and spouse, a mother who does not cease to be a virgin; you are the mother of sinners: they are sons of your pain, children of your blood which you shed drop by drop, children of your love.
My daughter, in Heaven you will often hear many sinners calling you from earth, addressing you by the sweet name of mother. Those that you free from the clutches of the devil will praise you and know they were freed by you, and given leave to approach my Divine Heart.
Enormous love, blissful pain that led you to merit from Jesus such high and honorable titles!
— My Jesus, my Jesus, I am ashamed and confused! If I could hide all this! It is only for yourself and for me! It baffles me to hear this and see my misery!
— You know already that I need your misery in which to hide my greatness and omnipotence.
Write everything, write, my daughter. If what say you stayed hidden, it would be of no value to the world.
Mother of sinners, new redemptrix, save them, save them! You are the new redemptrix chosen by Christ.
There has never been nor will again be in the world suffering like yours. There has never been nor will be again a victim immolated in this way, because there was never such a need as now, the world has never sinned to this extent.
Nineteenth centuries have passed since I came to the world and now I have brought the new redemptrix, chosen by Me to remind the world what Christ suffered, what pain is, what love is and His desire for souls.
You're the new redemptrix come save them, you're the new redemptrix who fires the love of Jesus in humankind, the new redemptrix who will be spoken of as long as the world exists.
My daughter, there is a book which is written with blood and pain, golden letters, lyrics and precious stones, all divine sciences! Courage, beloved, be not afraid of storms nor the sound of the thunder which brings with it clouds that spill graces, love and manna from heaven.
Fill yourself, my daughter; it is love and manna in which you live. Fill yourself in order to give to souls.
— Thank you, my Jesus!
Sentiments of the Soul 1-12-1944, Friday