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Love

Love in Vela's reading is not a feeling the corpus tries to define. It is the sustained orientation of self toward another that makes the other's flourishing matter — the orientation that survives the day's weather, the body's fatigue, the discovery that the beloved is not what one thought. The corpus pays attention to what love does, not to what love says about itself.

Working definition · Deep attachment, care, or cherishing that binds self to another.

3672 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 1 cluster

Vela’s read on this emotion

Love is the broadest of the emotions Vela reads and the one most often softened into sentiment. The reading runs through registers that resist the softening.

bell hooks's *All About Love* makes the case that love is best understood as a practice rather than a feeling — what one chooses to do for the beloved, repeatedly, over time. Marilynne Robinson's *Gilead* sequence reads love across generations and across the small daily decisions that constitute it. Wendell Berry's Port William stories read love as fidelity to a place and to the people who live in it. Carson McCullers wrote love as the climate of difficult intimacies. The queer literature — Maggie Nelson's *The Argonauts*, Garth Greenwell — has had to re-imagine love against received scripts.

The contemplative tradition holds love as a serious subject across centuries. The thirteenth chapter of *1 Corinthians* — *love is patient, love is kind* — names love as what it does. Augustine of Hippo writes about *amor* across the *Confessions* as the orienting motion of the soul. The four Greek words — *agape* (selfless care), *eros* (desiring love), *philia* (the love of friends), *storge* (the love of family) — let the same English word hold registers that the contemplative writers have kept separate.

Love is not the same as tenderness, desire, admiration, or gratitude. Tenderness is love's somatic posture when the beloved is fragile. Desire is the lean; love is what survives the lean's exhaustion. Admiration is approach toward something held above; love does not require that altitude. Gratitude is the recognition of a gift; love can be present even when the gift goes unrecognized.

A slower companion essay on love is forthcoming.

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Long-form guide in the magazine

An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.

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Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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3672 tagged passages

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    First, we are taught to refer everything to God as to our End by the words of the Apostle (1 Cor. x. 31), “Whether you eat or drink, or whatsoever else you do, do all to the glory of God.” We fulfil this precept when we order our life to the service of God; and when, in consequence, all our actions are, virtually, directed to Him, save those that are sinful, and which, therefore, withdraw us from Him. While we act thus, we love God with our whole heart. Secondly, we love God with our whole mind, when we subject our understanding to Him, believing what has been divinely transmitted to us, according to the words of St. Paul (2 Cor. x. 5), “bringing into captivity every understanding unto the obedience of Christ.” Thirdly, we love God with our whole soul, when all that we love is loved in God, and when we refer all our affections to the love of Him. St. Paul expresses this love in the following words: “For whether we be transported in mind it is to God, or whether we be sober, it is for you; for the charity of Christ presses us” (2 Cor. v. 13). Fourthly, we love God with our whole strength, when all our words and works are established in divine charity according to the precept of St. Paul, “Let all your things be done in charity” (1 Cor. xvi. 14). This, then, is the third degree of perfection of divine love, to which all are bound of necessity and by precept. But the second degree is not possible in this life, save to one who, like Our Lord Jesus Christ, is, at the same time, both travelling on the road to Heaven, and enjoying the happiness of the Blessed.” CHAPTER VI The Perfection of Divine Love Which is A Matter of CounselWHEN St. Paul had said to the Philippians, “Not as though I had already attained, or were already perfect,” he continued, “but I follow after, if I may by any means apprehend.” Shortly afterwards he added, “Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded.” From these words it is plain that, although the perfection of the blessed is not possible to us in this life, we ought, nevertheless, to endeavour, as far as we can, to emulate it. Now, it is in this effort that consists the perfection in this life, to which we are invited by the counsels.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    About drinking the Blood of Jesus spiritually; Our fathers … all drank the same spiritual drink: and they drank of the spiritual rock that followed them, and that rock was Christ. 1 Cor. 10:1, 4. (1) It is found in the Wounds of Jesus; He struck the rock and the waters gushed out, and the streams overflowed. Ps. 77:20. Who are these that fly as clouds and as doves to their windows? Is. 60:8. They shall say to Him, What are these wounds in the midst of Thy hands? And He will say, With these I was wounded in the house of them that love Me. Zach. 13:6. The Lord is my strength and my praise, and He is become my salvation. You shall draw waters with joy out of the Saviour’s fountains. Is. 12:2, 3. Lift up Thine eyes round about and see: all these are gathered together; they are come to Thee; Thy sons shall come from afar, and Thy daughters shall rise up at Thy side. Is. 60:4. The crown is fallen from our head; woe to us because we have sinned. Therefore are our hearts sorrowful; therefore are our eyes dim. Lam. 5:16, 17. (2) The profit of this Blood; Dip a bunch of hyssop in the blood that is at the door, and sprinkle the transom of the door therewith and both the door-posts. Ex. 12:22. (3) The spiritual sweetness of this Blood; Peter, an Apostle of Jesus Christ, to the strangers dispersed … elect, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, to sanctification of the Spirit, to obedience and sprinkling of the Blood of Jesus Christ: grace be unto you and peace be multiplied. 1 St. Pet. 1:1, 2. Grace is like a Paradise in blessings. Ecclus. 40:17. Their soul shall be as a watered garden. Jerem. 31:12. The Lord will give thee rest continually, and will fill thy soul with brightness; … and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a fountain of water whose waters shall not fail. Is. 58:11. 1. Flowers; a. Roses of love; He shone as the flower of roses in the days of the spring. Ecclus. 1:6, 8. Bud forth as the rose, planted by the brooks of waters. Ecclus. 39:17. Thy head is like Carmel, and the hairs of Thy head as the purple of the king. Cantic. 7:5. b. Lilies of chastity; He shone … as the lilies that are on the brink of the water. Ecclus. 1:6, 8. Send forth flowers as the lily. Ecclus. 39:19. These are they who are come out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb. Apoc. 7:14. His eyes are as doves upon brooks of waters, which are washed with milk, and sit beside the plentiful streams. Cantic. 5:12. I will be as the dew; Israel shall spring as the lily. Osee 14:6.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Whether it is more meritorious to love an enemy than to love a friend?Objection 1: It would seem more meritorious to love an enemy than to love a friend. For it is written (Mat. 5:46): “If you love them that love you, what reward shall you have?” Therefore it is not deserving of reward to love one’s friend: whereas, as the same passage proves, to love one’s enemy is deserving of a reward. Therefore it is more meritorious to love one’s enemy than to love one’s friend. Objection 2: Further, an act is the more meritorious through proceeding from a greater charity. But it belongs to the perfect children of God to love their enemies, whereas those also who have imperfect charity love their friends. Therefore it is more meritorious to love one’s enemy than to love one’s friend. Objection 3: Further, where there is more effort for good, there seems to be more merit, since “every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labor” (1 Cor. 3:8). Now a man has to make a greater effort to love his enemy than to love his friend, because it is more difficult. Therefore it seems more meritorious to love one’s enemy than to love one’s friend. On the contrary, The better an action is, the more meritorious it is. Now it is better to love one’s friend, since it is better to love a better man, and the friend who loves you is better than the enemy who hates you. Therefore it is more meritorious to love one’s friend than to love one’s enemy. I answer that, God is the reason for our loving our neighbor out of charity, as stated above ([2578]Q[25], A[1]). When therefore it is asked which is better or more meritorious, to love one’s friend or one’s enemy, these two loves may be compared in two ways, first, on the part of our neighbor whom we love, secondly, on the part of the reason for which we love him. In the first way, love of one’s friend surpasses love of one’s enemy, because a friend is both better and more closely united to us, so that he is a more suitable matter of love and consequently the act of love that passes over this matter, is better, and therefore its opposite is worse, for it is worse to hate a friend than an enemy.

  • From Heptaméron (1559)

    He had hardly been a month married when he was obliged to go to the wars again, and it was more than two years before he could return to his wife, who all the while continued to reside where she had been brought up. He wrote frequently to her in the interval ; but the chief part of his letters consisted of compliments to Florida, who on her part failed not to return them, and often even wrote with her own hand some pretty phrase in Aventurada's letters. This was quite enough to in- duce the husband to write frequently to his wife ; yet in all this Florida knew nothing but that she loved him like a brother. Amadour went and came several times, and during five years he saw Florida not more than two months altogether. Yet, in spite of distance and long absence, his love not only remained in full force, but even grew stronger. At last Amadour, coming to see his wife, found the countess far away from the court. The king had gone into Andalusia, and had taken with him the young Count of Aranda, who was already beginning to bear arms, and the countess had retired to a country-house of hers on the frontier of Aragon and Navarre. She was very glad of the arrival of Amadour, whom she had not seen for nearly three years. He was welcomed by every- body, and the countess commanded that he should be treated as her own son. When he was with her, she consulted him on all the affairs of her house, and did just 76 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \Novd lo. as he advised. In fact, his influence in the family was unbounded ; and so strong was the belief in his discern- ment that he was trusted on all occasions as though he had been a saint or an angel. As for Florida, who loved Aventurada, and had no suspicion of her husband's in- tentions, she testified her affection for him without reserve. Her heart being free from passion, she felt much pleasure in his society, but she felt nothing more. He, on the other hand, found it a very hard task to evade the penetration of those who knew by experience the difference between the looks of a man who loves and of one who does not love ; for when Florida talked familiarly with him in her frank simplicity, the hidden fire in his heart blazed up so violently that he could not help feel- ing it in his face, and letting some sparks from it escape from his eyes.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    I thank Thee, dear Jesus, for all Thy Sacraments. I thank Thee above all for Thyself. I thank Thee because I can feed upon Thee spiritually, even when I cannot come before Thy Altar. Give me a greater thirst for Thee, Thou lover of my soul, and let me sit beneath Thy shadow and taste of Thy sweetness more. Lift me to Thyself on high, and let my soul be steeped in Thy light. Give me a great love for all things holy and just and pure and lovely and true. Let me feed on the pleasures of Thy right hand, and let me drink of the torrent of Thy river. Thy land is ever flowing with milk and honey; but Thou, my own Jesus, my loved One, art far sweeter than honey and the honeycomb. Thy city has gates of pearl, and its jasper wall has foundations of precious stones; but Thou art the one Pearl without price, and for Thy love I would gladly sell all that I have. Thy sweetness deadens my taste for the world’s gifts, and in all bitterness of sorrow the light of Thy face and the love of Thy heart are joy and rest and peace. I bless and praise Thee for forgiving my sins. I bless and praise Thee for saving me from the undying fire. I bless and praise Thee for all Thy spiritual gifts here, and for the hope of Thy heavenly joys hereafter. Thou art my Jesus in Heaven and my Jesus on the Altar. Thou art my Jesus in my heart. For this I love Thee, and bless Thee, and praise Thee, and glorify Thee, and adore Thee for ever and ever. XX About the third way of eating, or the way sacramental and spiritual at onceC. The third way of eating the Body of Jesus is the way in which good Christians communicate, that is, not only sacramentally, but also spiritually. Three things have to be considered about this: (1) First, there is the multitude of those who do not go to Communion, that is, the multitude of the bad. For since there is a threefold way of eating—one sacramental only, in which bad Christians eat, and yet do not eat; one spiritual only, in which the good do not eat, and yet do eat; one sacramental and spiritual, in which only good Christians eat and are eaten—there remains to fill up this part of our subject the consideration of the multitude of bad persons who neither eat nor are eaten. These, indeed, do not eat the Body of Christ, and therefore they die everlastingly. There are three kinds or bands of these people: a, unbelievers; b, the careless; c, the despisers.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    It may be objected, however, that St. Matthew St. Bartholomew, and Zaccheus were rich; nevertheless, they entered into Heaven. St. Jerome replies, that, “we must remember that they had ceased to be wealthy at the time of their admission to Heaven.”Abraham, however, never lost his wealth, but, as we read in Genesis, died a rich man, bequeathing his property to his sons. How then could he be perfect? Nevertheless God said to him, “Be perfect” (Gen. xvii. 1). This question cannot be answered if we hold that it is the mere renunciation of wealth which constitutes perfection. For, if such were the case, no one who was rich could be perfect. Our Lord does not say that perfection lies in giving up what we possess, but He mentions this renunciation of our possessions as a means to perfection. We see this by His own words, “If you would be perfect, go, sell all that you hast and give to the poor, and follow me.”The following of Christ constitutes perfection; the sacrifice of riches is a means to perfection. St. Jerome, commenting on the Gospel of St. Matthew, says, “As if to show that merely giving up our possessions does not suffice to make us perfect, Peter mentions that wherein perfection consists, when he says, ‘We have followed you.’” Origen, again, says on the same passage, “We are not to gather from the words, ‘if you would be perfect’ that when a man has given his goods to the poor, he becomes perfect at once. What we are to understand is, that from that time, his contemplation of God begins to attract him to all virtues.” A rich man may be perfect if his affections be not entangled in his possessions, but devoted entirely to God. In this way Abraham was perfect. Although he possessed wealth, he was detached from it. The words of the Lord spoken to him, “Walk before me and be perfect,” make it clear, that the perfection of the Patriarch was to consist in walking before God, and in loving Him with a love so perfect that it reached to contempt of himself, and of all that belonged to him. So perfect, indeed, was his love of God, that he showed it by his readiness to slay his son. Wherefore the Lord said to him, “Because you have done this thing, and have not spared your only begotten son for my sake, I will bless you” (Gen. xxii. 16).

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    But to love our enemies with an actual love when there is no necessity for so doing, is a counsel of perfection. Of course it is necessary for salvation to love our enemies by doing them actual service and assisting them, if they be in any extremity, if, for example, they be dying of hunger. The precept of brotherly love does not ‘ however, bind us to show any special affection nor to do any particular service to our enemies, unless they be in the extreme distress of which we have spoken; neither are we bound by precept to do any special service to any other of our neighbours. Love of our enemies springs, directly and purely, from love of God; whereas our love for other men arises from divers motives, e.g., from gratitude, from kinship, from fellow-citizenship, and the like. But nothing save the love of God can make us love our enemies; for we love them because they are His creatures, made in His image, and capable of enjoying Him. And, as charity prefers God before all other good, the consideration of the Divine Good which inclines it to love its enemies, outweighs the consideration of any injury received from them which would incline our nature to hate them. Thus, in proportion to the love of God in a man’s soul, will be his readiness to love his enemies.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    THEOPHYLACT. He confesses indeed that He is the Christ announced by the Prophets; but the Evangelist Mark passes over what the Lord answered to his confession, and how He blessed him, lest by this way of relating it, he should seem to be favouring his master Peter; Matthew plainly goes through the whole of it. ORIGEN. (in Matt. Tom. xii. 15) Or else, Mark and Luke, as they wrote that Peter answered, Thou art the Christ, without adding what is put down in Matthew, the Son of the living God, so they omitted to relate the blessing which was conferred on this confession. It goes on, And he charged them that they should tell no man of him. THEOPHYLACT. For He wished in the mean time to hide His glory, lest many should be offended because of Him, and so earn a worse punishment. CHRYSOSTOM. (ubi sup.) Or else, that He might wait to fix the pure faith in their minds, till the Crucifixion, which was an offence to them, was over, for after it was once perfected, about the time of His ascension, He said unto the Apostles, Go ye and teach all nations. THEOPHYLACT. But after the Lord had accepted the confession of the disciples, who called Him the true God, He then reveals to them the mystery of the Cross. Wherefore it goes on, And he began to teach them that the Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected of the elders and of the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again; and he spake that saying openly, that is, concerning His future passion. But His disciples did not understand the order of the truth, neither could they comprehend His resurrection, but thought it better that He should not suffer. CHRYSOSTOM. (Vict. Ant. e Cat. in Marc. v. Chrys. ubi sup.) The reason, however, why the Lord told them this, was to shew, that after His cross and resurrection, Christ must be preached by His witnesses. Again, Peter alone, from the fervour of his disposition, had the boldness to dispute about these things. Wherefore it goes on, And Peter took him up, and began to rebuke hime. BEDE. (ubi sup. Chrys. ubi sup.) This, however, he speaks with the feelings of a man who loves and desires; as if he said, This cannot be, neither can mine ears receive that the Son of God is to be slain.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Tract. lxxxii. 1) Made bright or glorified; the Greek word may be translated in either way. Δόξα signifies glory; not our own glory, we must remember, as if we had it of ourselves: it is of His grace that we have it; and therefore it is not our own but His glory. For from whom shall we derive our fruitfulness, but from His mercy preventing us. Wherefore He adds, As My Father hath loved Me, even so love I you. This then is the source of our good works. Our good works proceed from faith which worketh by love: but we could not love unless we were loved first: As My Father hath loved Me, even so love I you. This does not prove that our nature is equal to His, as His is to the Father’s, but the grace, whereby He is the Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus. The Father loves us, but in Him. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxvi. 2) If then I love you, be of good cheer; if it is the Father’s glory that ye bring forth good fruit, bear no evil. Then to rouse them to exertion, He adds, Continue ye in My love; and then shews how this is to be done: If ye keep My commandments, ye shall abide in My love.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    “Thy Kingdom Come.”The Holy Spirit makes us love, desire and pray rightly; and instills in us, first of all, a fear whereby we ask that the name of God be sanctified. He gives us another gift, that of piety. This is a devout and loving affection for our Father and for all men who are in trouble. Now, since God is our Father, we ought not only reverence and fear Him, but also have towards Him a sweet and pious affection. This love makes us pray that the kingdom of God may come: “We should live soberly and justly in this world, looking for the blessed hope and coming of the glory of the great God.” It may be asked of us: “Why, since the kingdom of God always was, do we then ask that it may come?” This, however, can be understood in three ways. First, a king sometimes has only the right to a kingdom or dominion, and yet his rule has not been declared because the men in his kingdom are not as yet subject to him. His rule or dominion will come only when the men of his kingdom are his subjects. Now, God is by His very essence and nature the Lord of all things; and Christ being God and Man is the Lord over all things: “And He gave Him power and glory and a kingdom.” It is, therefore, necessary that all things be subject to Him. This is not yet the case, but will be so at the end of the world: “For He must reign, until He hath put all His enemies under His feet.” Hence it is for this we pray when we say: “Thy kingdom come.” WHY WE PRAY THUSIn so doing we pray for a threefold purpose: that the just may be strengthened, that sinners may be punished, and that death be destroyed. Now, the reason is that men are subject to Christ in two ways, either willingly or unwillingly. Again, the will of God is so efficacious that it must be fully complied with; and God does wish that all things be subject to Christ. Hence, two things are necessary: either man will do the will of God by subjecting himself to His commands, as do the just; or God shall exert His will and punish those who are sinners and His enemies; and this will take place at the end of the world: “Until I make Thy enemies Thy footstool.”

  • From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

    Christians live in an evil and a hostile world, but they possess the means to overcome it; and, when the destined end of the world comes, they will be safe, because they already possess that which makes them members of the new community in the new age. The Fellowship of the Church John does more than move in the high realms of theology; he has certain most practical things to say about the Christian Church and the Christian life. No New Testament writer stresses more consistently or more strenuously the necessity of Christian fellowship. Christians, John was convinced, are not only bound to God; they are also bound to each other. When we walk in the light, we have fellowship with each other (1:7). Those who claim to walk in the light but who hate their brothers and sisters are in reality walking in darkness; those who love their brothers and sisters are the ones who are in the light (2:9-II). The proof that people have passed from darkness to light is the fact that they love one another. To hate a fellow human being is in essence to be a murderer, as Cain was. If we are able out of our own wealth to help another's poverty and do not do so, it is ridiculous for us to claim that the love of God dwells in us. The essence of religion is to believe in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and to love one another (3:11-17, 3:23). God is love; and, therefore, those who love are kin to God. God has loved us, and that is the best reason for loving each other (4:7-12). If we say that we love God and at the same time hate another person, we are liars. The command is that all who love God must love others too (4:20-I). It was John's conviction that the only way in which anyone can prove love for God is by loving other people, and that that love must be not only a sentimental emotion but also a dynamic towards practical help. Christian Righteousness No New Testament writer makes a stronger ethical demand than John, or more strongly condemns a so-called religion which fails to produce ethical action. God is righteous, and the life of everyone who knows him must reflect his righteousness (2:29). Whoever abides in Christ, and is born of God, does not sin; whoever does not do right is not of God (3:3-10); and the characteristic of this righteousness is that it translates into love for other people We show our love to God and to others by keeping God's commandments (5:2). Whoever is born of God does not sin (5:18). For John, knowledge of God and obedience to him must always go hand in hand.

  • From Heptaméron (1559)

    From the Franciscan monastery, Pauline went straight to the convent of St. Claire, where she was re- ceived and veiled. Once there, she sent word to her mistress, who, hardly crediting such strange news, went to see her next day, and did all she could to dissuade her from her purpose. The only reply she received from Pauline was that she ought to be satisfied with having deprived her of a husband of fiesh, the only man in the world she had ever loved, without seeking likewise to separate her from Him who is immortal and invisible, which neither she nor all the creatures on earth could do. The marchioness, seeing her so strong in hei ! Second Jay] Q UEEN OF NA VARKE. 1 8 3 pious resolution, kissed her, and left her in her convent with extreme regret. These two persons lived afterwards such holy and de- vout lives that it cannot be doubted that He whose law is charity said to them at the end of their course, as to Mary IMagdalen, " Your sins are forgiven, since you have loved so much," and removed them in peace to the blessed abode where the recompense infinitely surpassed all human merits. You cannot but own, ladies, that the man's love was the greater of the two ; but it was so well repaid that I would all those who love were so richly recompensed. " In that case, there would be more fools than ever," said Hircan. " Do you call it folly," said Oisille, " to love virtu- ously in youth, and then to centre all our love in God "t " " If despite and despair are laudable," replied Hircan, laughing, "then I must say that Pauline and her lover are worthy of high praise." " Yet God has many ways of attracting us to Him," said Geburon ; "and though their beginnings seem bad, their end is, nevertheless, very good." "I believe," said Parlamente, "that no one ever per- fectly loved God who did not perfectly love some of his creatures in this world." " What do you call loving perfectly ? " said Saffredent. " Do you believe that those enamoured cataleptics who worship ladies at a hundred paces' distance, without dar- ing to speak out, love perfectly .'' " "I call perfect lovers," replied Parlamente, "those who seek in what they love some perfection, be it good- ness, beauty, or charming demeanour ; who aim always at virtue, and whose hearts are so noble and so spotless that i84 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [JVovel 19.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    THE PERFECTION OF BROTHERLY LOVE WHICH IS NECESSARY FOR SALVATIONWE may fittingly conclude these considerations about the perfection of charity, as it regards God, with some reflections touching perfect charity as it concerns our neighbour. There are several degrees of perfect love of our neighbour, just as there are several degrees of perfect love of God. There is a certain perfection of this virtue which is a matter of precept, and which is necessary to salvation. There is, further, a supererogatory perfection, which is a matter of counsel. The perfection of brotherly love necessary to salvation, is of the nature prescribed by the precept, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” As God is the universal Good, existing above us, it is necessary, as we have before said, for the perfection of divine love that the whole heart should be, in a certain sense, turned to God. This degree of divine love is expressed by the precept, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart.” But our neighbour is not the universal good existing above ourselves; he is a particular good beneath us. Therefore, we are not bidden to love him with our whole heart, but as ourselves. Three consequences follow from this proposition. First, our love must be sincere. It is in the nature of love to wish well to the object beloved. Hence, love tends towards two things: to the one to whom we are wishing well, and to the good which we desire for him. And, although both these things are said to be loved, that object is truly loved to which we wish some good. For the good which we wish to another person is only loved per accidens, because it falls within the limits of the act of love. Now it is incorrect to say that we really and sincerely love an object which we desire to destroy; and as many of the things which we use are destroyed, we only love such things per accidens. For instance, we consume wine in drinking, we expose a horse to death in battle; in such cases, we are truly loving ourselves and are only loving these other things per accidens, on account of the use which they are to us.

  • From Heptaméron (1559)

    Towards daylight, he asked his bedfellow why she had so long delayed his happiness, and what was her reason for making her servants behave so oddly. " I had resolved," she said, laughing, " never to love ; and I have adhered to that resolution ever since I became a widow. But the first time you spoke to me, I saw so much to admire in you that I changed my mind, and began from that hour to love you as much as you loved me. It is true that honour, which has always been the ruling principle of my conduct, would not suffer love to make me do anything which might blemish my repu- tation. But as the stricken deer thinks to change its pain by change of place, so did I go from church to church, hoping to fly from him whom I carried in my heart, the proof of whose perfect love has reconciled honour with love. But to be thoroughly assured that I gave my heart to a man who was perfectly worthy of it, I ordered my women to do as they have done. I can assure you, if you had been frightened enough to hide under the bed, my intention was to have got up and gone into another room, and never have had anything more to do with you. But as I have found you not only comely and pleasing but also full of valour and intrepidity to a degree even beyond what fame had reported you ; as I have seen that fear could not appal you, nor in the least degree cool the ardour of your passion for me, I have re- solved to attach myself to you for the rest of my days ; being well assured that I cannot place my life and my honour in better hands than in those of him whom of Second day.] QUEEN' OF NAVAREE. 1 6* all men in the world I believe to be the bravest and the best."* As if human will could be immutable, they mutually promised and vowed a thing which was not in their power — I mean, perpetual affection, which can neither grow up nor abide in the hearts of men, as those ladies know who have learned by experience what is the du- ration of such engagements. Therefore, ladies, if you are wise, you will be on your guard against us, as the stag would be against the hunter if the animal had reason, for our felicity, our glory, and delight is to see you cap- tured, and to despoil you of what ought to be dearer to you than life. " Since when have you turned preacher, Geburon ? " said Hirean. " You did not always talk in that fashion."

  • From Heptaméron (1559)

    Ennasuite could not help replying, as taking this to have been said on her account, " If beasts did not bite me, their company would be more agreeable to me than that of men, who are irascible and unbearable. But I do not retract my assertion, and I say again, that if my husband was in the like danger, I would not forsake him, though it were to cost me my life." " Beware," said Nonierfide, " how you love to such a degree that the excess of your love maybe mischievous both to you and to him. There is a medium in all things, and for want of a right understanding love is often converted into hatred." " It seems to me," said Simontault, " that you have not pushed the matter so far without purposing to con- firm your principle by some example. Therefore, if you know one let us hear it." " Well, then, my tale shall be short and gay, as usual," replied Nomerfide. S>venlh day.'] QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 513 NOVEL LXVIII. A woman gives her husband powder of canthar'des to make him love her, and goes near to ]<illing him. There was formerly at Pan, in Beam, an apothecary whose name was Maitre Etienne. He had married a good thrifty woman, with such a share of beauty as ought to have contented him ; but as he tasted different drugs, so too he had a mind to taste different women, the better to judge of all. This was so disagreeable to his wife that she lost all patience, for he never noticed her except in Passion week, by way of penance. The apothecary being one day m his shop, and his wife hid behind the door, listening, in came a woman of the place, who was coinmh'e* to the apothecary, and was sick of the same complaint as the listener behind the door. "Alas! coniphe, my friend," she said to the apothecary, sighing deeply, " I am the most unfortunate woman in the world. I love my husband more than myself. I have not a thought but how to serve and obey him ; but it is all labour in vain, and he loves the worst and nastiest woman in the town better than he does me. If you know any drug that can change his constitution, pray give it me, comph-e. If it succeeds with me, and I * In France, the godfather and godmother of a child are called in reference to each other coj/ipere ^.nd commere, terms which imply mutual relations of a peculiarly friendly kind. The same usage exists in all Catholic countries. One of the novels in the Decam- eron is founded on a very general opinion in Italy that an amorous connection between a cottipadre and his commadre partook almost of the nature of incest. 33 J 14 THE HFPTAMERON OF THE iNovel 6S.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    (2) What is the profit for which we seek the Blood of Jesus? That Blood must be poured over the whole soul with its three powers, the understanding, the will, and the memory: or it must be drunk by all the powers of the soul. The door-posts and the lintel were sprinkled with the blood of the Paschal lamb. They sprinkled them with a bunch of hyssop. Now the hyssop signifies the perfection and integrity of the Faith; and the threshold of the house is Jesus, by whom we have an entrance to Heaven. To dip the bunch of hyssop in the blood of the threshold is by a pure faith to drink the Blood of Jesus, and to gain strength from it. But we must sprinkle not only the posts of the door, but the lintel also, that is, we must so steep the understanding, the affections, and the memory in the Blood of Jesus, and be so spiritually inebriated with it, that the understanding may clearly see the greatness of its might in the whole race of man; that the affections, aflame with love, may taste and see the greatness of its goodness in themselves; and that the memory may never forget, but always hold fast, the Sacrament of a love and a bounty so great as are this love and bountifulness of our Lord. (3) What is the sweetness of the spirit and of grace which comes from the use or sprinkling of our Lord’s Blood? His Blood, by the sweetness of its grace, makes the soul, as it were, a Paradise of God. By it come to us grace and peace, as St. Peter says. By it, therefore, we have grace and all virtues, fruitfulness of soul, peace, gentleness of heart, and tranquillity. Thus the soul, watered by the Blood of Jesus, is likened to a Paradise of God, and its grace is like a Paradise in blessings. It is a garden, and a watered garden of God, with all kinds of delightful fruits. Being drenched in the sweetness of the Precious Blood, the soul has a threefold glory of grace. For, 1, in virtues there are lovely flowers; 2, in words there are leafy branches; 3, in works there are fruits of the ripeness of Heaven. 1. From the spiritual pouring forth of this Divine Blood there spring up in the soul, as in God’s Paradise, many very lovely flowers. The blood of man has three colours: when healthy, it is red; when much changed, as in milk, it is white; and when still more changed, it is blackish. So the spiritual might of our Lord’s Blood makes in the soul many-coloured flowers of virtues, as in a garden of God: a, roses of love; b, lilies of chastity; c, violets of humility.

  • From Speak, Memory (1966)

    2My numerous childhood illnesses brought my mother and me still closer together. As a little boy, I showed an abnormal aptitude for mathematics, which I completely lost in my singularly talentless youth. This gift played a horrible part in tussles with quinsy or scarlet fever, when I felt enormous spheres and huge numbers swell relentlessly in my aching brain. A foolish tutor had explained logarithms to me much too early, and I had read (in a British publication, the Boy’s Own Paper, I believe) about a certain Hindu calculator who in exactly two seconds could find the seventeenth root of, say, 3529471145760275132301897342055866171392 (I am not sure I have got this right; anyway the root was 212). Such were the monsters that thrived on my delirium, and the only way to prevent them from crowding me out of myself was to kill them by extracting their hearts. But they were far too strong, and I would sit up and laboriously form garbled sentences as I tried to explain things to my mother. Beneath my delirium, she recognized sensations she had known herself, and her understanding would bring my expanding universe back to a Newtonian norm. The future specialist in such dull literary lore as auto-plagiarism will like to collate a protagonist’s experience in my novel The Gift with the original event. One day, after a long illness, as I lay in bed still very weak, I found myself basking in an unusual euphoria of lightness and repose. I knew my mother had gone to buy me the daily present that made those convalescences so delightful. What it would be this time I could not guess, but through the crystal of my strangely translucent state I vividly visualized her driving away down Morskaya Street toward Nevski Avenue. I distinguished the light sleigh drawn by a chestnut courser. I heard his snorting breath, the rhythmic clacking of his scrotum, and the lumps of frozen earth and snow thudding against the front of the sleigh. Before my eyes and before those of my mother loomed the hind part of the coachman, in his heavily padded blue robe, and the leather-encased watch (twenty minutes past two) strapped to the back of his belt, from under which curved the pumpkin-like folds of his huge stuffed rump. I saw my mother’s seal furs and, as the icy speed increased, the muff she raised to her face—that graceful, winter-ride gesture of a St. Petersburg lady. Two corners of the voluminous spread of bearskin that covered her up to the waist were attached by loops to the two side knobs of the low back of her seat. And behind her, holding on to these knobs, a footman in a cockaded hat stood on his narrow support above the rear extremities of the runners.

  • From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

    Eusebius (3:28) tells another story of John which he got from the works of the second-century theologian, Irenaeus. We have seen that one of the leaders of the Gnostic heresy was a man called Cerinthus. `The apostle John once entered a bath to bathe; but, when he learned that Cerinthus was within, he sprang from his place and rushed out of the door, for he could not bear to remain under the same roof with him. He advised those who were with him to do the same. "Let us flee," he said, "lest the bath fall, for Cerinthus, the enemy of the truth, is within."' There we have another glimpse of the temper of John. Boanerges was not quite dead. Writing in the fifth century, John Cassian tells another famous story about John. One day he was found playing with a tame partridge. A narrower and more rigid brother rebuked him for thus wasting his time, and John answered: `The bow that is always bent will soon cease to shoot straight.' It is the great biblical scholar Jerome who tells the story of the last words of John. When he was dying, his disciples asked him if he had any last message to leave them. `Little children,' he said, `love one another.' Again and again he repeated it; and they asked him if that was all he had to say. `It is enough,' he said, `for it is the Lord's command.' Such then is our information about John; and he emerges as a figure of fiery temper, of wide ambition, of undoubted courage and, in the end, of gentle love. The Beloved Disciple If we have been following our references closely, we will have noticed one thing. All our information about John comes from the first three gospels. It is the astonishing fact that the Fourth Gospel never mentions the apostle John from beginning to end. But it does mention two other people. First, it speaks of the disciple whom Jesus loved. There are four mentions of him. He was leaning on Jesus' breast at the Last Supper (John 13:23-5); it is into his care that Jesus committed Mary as he died upon his cross (19:25-7); it was Peter and he whom Mary Magdalene met on her return from the empty tomb on the first Easter morning (20:2); and he was present at the last resurrection appearance of Jesus by the lakeside (21:20). Second, the Fourth Gospel has a kind of character whom we might call the witness. As the Fourth Gospel tells of the spear thrust into the side of Jesus and the issue of the water and the blood, there comes the comment: `He who saw this has testified so that you also may believe. His testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth' (19:35). At the end of the gospel comes the statement that it was the beloved disciple who testified of these things, `and we know that his testimony is true' (21:24).

  • From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    Outlines I What hue lies in the slit of anger ample and pure as night what color the channel blood comes through? A Black woman and a white woman charter our courses close in a sea of calculated distance warned away by reefs of hidden anger histories rallied against us the friendly face of cheap alliance. Jonquils through the Mississippi snow you entered my vision with the force of hurled rock defended by distance and a warning smile fossil tears ​ pitched over the heart’s wall for protection no other women grown beyond safety come back to tell us whispering past the turned shoulders of our closest we were not the first Black woman white woman altering course to fit our own journey. In this treacherous sea even the act of turning is almost fatally difficult coming around full face into a driving storm putting an end to running before the wind. On a helix of white the letting of blood the face of my love and rage coiled in my brown arms an ache in the bone we cannot alter history by ignoring it nor the contradictions who we are. II A Black woman and a white woman in the open fact of our loving with not only our enemies’ hands raised against us means a gradual sacrifice of all that is simple dreams where you walk the mountain still as a water-spirit your arms lined with scalpels and I hide the strength of my hungers like a throwing knife in my hair. Guilt wove through quarrels like barbed wire fights in the half forgotten schoolyard gob of spit in a childhood street yet both our mothers once scrubbed kitchens in houses where comfortable women died a separate silence our mothers’ nightmares trapped into familiar hatred the convenience of others drilled into their lives like studding into a wall they taught us to understand only the strangeness of men. To give ​ but not beyond what is wanted to speak ​ as well as to bear the weight of hearing Fragments of the word wrong clung to my lashes like ice confusing my vision with a crazed brilliance your face ​ distorted into grids of magnified complaint our first winter we made a home outside of symbol learned to drain the expansion tank together to look beyond the agreed-upon disguises not to cry each other’s tears.

  • From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

    Fetal hands curled inward on the icy sheets your bed was so cold the bruises could not appear. On the second day I knew you were alive because the grey flesh of your face suffered. I love you and cannot feel you less than Martha I love you and cannot split this shaved head from Martha’s pushy straightness asking In a smash of mixed symbols How long must I wander here In this final house of my father? On the Solstice I was in Providence. You know this town because you visited friends here. It rained in Providence on the Solstice— I remember we passed through here twice on route Six through Providence to the Cape where we spent our second summer trying for peace or equity, even. It always seemed to be raining by the time we got to Providence. The Kirschenbaums live in Providence and Blossom and Barry and Frances. And Frances. Martha I am in love again. Listen, Frances, I said on the Solstice our summer has started. Today we are witches and with enough energy to move mountains back. Think of Martha. Back in my hideous city I saw you today. Your hair has grown and your armpits are scented by some careful attendant. Your Testing testing testing explosive syllables warning me Of The mountain has fallen into dung — no Martha remember remember Martha— Warning Dead flowers will not come to your bed again. The sun has started south our season is over. Today you opened your eyes, giving a blue-filmed history to your mangled words. They help me understand how you are teaching yourself to learn again. I need you need me le suis Martha I do not speak french kissing oh Wow, Black and Black . . . Black and . . . beautiful? Black and becoming somebody else maybe Erica maybe who sat in the fourth row behind us in high school but I never took French with you Martha and who is this Madame Erudite who is not me? I find you today in a womb full of patients blue-robed in various convalescences. Your eyes are closed you are propped Into a wheelchair, cornered, in a parody of resting.

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