Love Is The Beauty Of The Soul.

Love Is A Temporary Madness. It Erupts Like An Earthquake And Then Subsides. And When It Subsides You Have To Make A Decision. You Have To Work Out Whether Your Roots Have Become So Entwined Together That It Is Inconceivable That You Should Ever Part. Because This Is What Love Is. Love Is Not Breathlessness, It Is Not Excitement, It Is Not The Promulgation Of Promises Of Eternal Passion. That Is Just Being In Love Which Any Of Us Can Convince Ourselves We Are. Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being In Love Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.

In My Unloveliness I Plunged Into The Lovely Things Which You Created. You Were With Me, But I Was Not With You. Created Things Kept Me From You; Yet If They Had Not Been In You, They Would Have Not Been At All.

God Is Not What You Imagine Or What You Think You Understand. If You Understand You Have Failed.

A Man May Lose The Good Things Of This Life Against His Will; But If He Loses The Eternal Blessings, He Does So With His Own Consent.

O Holy Spirit, Descend Plentifully Into My Heart. Enlighten The Dark Corners Of This Neglected Dwelling And Scatter There Thy Cheerful Beams.