The more I had to act like a saint, the more I felt like being a sinner.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I wish people wouldn't think of me as a saint - unless they agree with the definition of a saint that a saint's a sinner who goes on trying.
Many of the insights of the saint stem from their experience as sinners.
I'm no saint. I'm no angel. I never proclaimed to be.
I'm not going to pretend I'm some saint, because I'm not.
An industrious sinner I much prefer to a lazy saint.
I'm a sinner just like everybody else and I have my faults and I've been through my dark times in my life to where I wasn't walking the walk and talking the talk, or I may have been talking the talk, but I wasn't walking the walk.
'You are no saint,' says the devil. Well, if I am not, I am a sinner, and Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Sink or swim, I go to Him; other hope, I have none.
I'm not a saint. I'm not an angel. I'm a human being.
I have always wanted to become a saint. Unfortunately, when I have compared myself with the saints, I have always found that there is the same difference between the saints and me as there is between a mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds and a humble grain of sand trodden underfoot by passers-by.
I was the big, bossy older sister, full of enthusiasms, mad fantasies, desperate urges to be famous, and anxious to be a saint - a settled sort of saint, not one who might have to suffer or die for her faith.