Love

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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• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  “Oh” she cried, “as you draw out, my heart follows your sex in fear of losing it and as you push in again, it opens wide in ecstasy and wants you all, all—” and she kissed me with hot lips. “Here is something new,” she exclaimed, “food for your vanity from my love! Mad as you make me with your love-thrusts, for at one moment I am hot and dry with desire, the next wet with passion, bathed in love, I could live with you all my life without having you, if you wished it, or if it would do you good. Do you believe me?” “Yes,” I replied, continuing the love-game; but occasionally withdrawing to rub her clitoris with my sex and then slowly burying him in her cunt again to the hilt. “We women have no souls but love,” she said faintly, her eyes dying as she spoke: “I torture myself to think of some new pleasure for you, and yet you’ll leave me, I feel you will, for some silly girl who can’t feel a tithe of what I feel or give you what I give—.” She began here to breathe quickly: “I’ve been thinking how to give you more pleasure; let me try. Your seed, darling, is dear to me: I don’t want it in my sex; I want to feel you thrill and so I want your sex in my mouth, I want to drink your essence and I will—” and suiting the action to the word she slipped down in the bed and took my sex in her mouth and began rubbing it up and down till my seed spirted in long jets, filling her mouth while she swallowed it greedily. “Now do I love you, Sir!” she exclaimed, drawing herself up on me again and nestling against me: “wait till some girl does that to you and you’ll know she loves you to distraction or better still to self-destruction.” “Why do you talk of any other girl!” I chided her, “I don’t imagine you going with any other man, why should you torment yourself just as causelessly?”

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  'Ahr he said, and raised both hands briefly, palms outward, in a kind of mock resignation. 1 would like to go wherever you go. I do not feel so strongly about Paris as you do, suddenly. I have never liked Paris very much.' Terhaps/ 1 said—I scarcely knew what I was 154 saying—'we could go to the country. Or to James Baldwin Spain/ *Ah/ he said, lightly, 'you are lonely for your mistress/ I was guilty and irritated and full of love and pain. I wanted to kick him and I wanted to take him in my arms. 'That's no reason to go to Spain/ I said sullenly. Td just like to see it, that's all. This city is expensive.' 'Well,' he said brightly, let us go to Spain. Perhaps it will remind me of Italy.' 'Would you rather go to Italy? Would you rather visit your home?' He smiled. 1 do not think I have a home there anymore.' And then: 'No. I would not like to go to Italy—perhaps, after all, for the same rea- son you do not want to go to the United States/ 'But I am going to the United States/ I said, quickly. And he looked at me. 1 mean, I'm cer- tainly going to go back there one of these days/ 'One of these days,' he said. 'Everything bad will happen—one of these days/ Why is it bad?' He smiled, 'Why, you will go home and then you will find that home is not home anymore. Then you will reaUy be in trouble. As long as you stay here, you can always think: One day I will go home.' He played with my thumb and grinned. "N'est-ce pas?' 'Beautiful logic/ I said. Tou mean I have a home to go to as long as I don't go there?' He laughed. 'Well, isn't it true? You don't GIOVANNI'S ROOM 155 have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back/ 1 seem/ I said, 'to have heard this song be- fore/ 'Ah, yes* said Giovanni, *and you will cer- tainly hear it again. It is one of those songs that somebody somewhere will always be sing- ing/ We rose and started walking. *And what would happen,' I asked, idly, *if I shut my ears?' He was silent for a long while. Then: Tou do, sometimes, remind me of the kind of man who is tempted to put himseK in prison in order to avoid being hit by a car.' That/ I said, sharply, 'would seem to apply much more to you than to me.' 'What do you mean?' he asked. Tm talking about that room, that hideous room. Why have you buried yourself there so long?'

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  Eventually we grew still, we fell silent, and we slept. We awoke around three or four in the afternoon, when the dull sun was prying at odd comers of the cluttered room. We arose and washed and shaved, bumping into each other and making jokes and furious with the imstated desire to escape the room. Then we danced out into the streets, into Paris, and ate quickly somewhere, and I left Giovanni at the door to Guillaume's bar. Then I, alone, and relieved to be alone, per- haps went to a movie, or walked, or returned home and read, or sat in a park and read, or sat on a cafe terrace, or talked to people, or wrote letters. I wrote to Hella, telling her noth- ing, or I wrote to my father asking for money. And no matter what I was doing, another me sat in my belly, absolutely cold with terror over the question of my life. Giovanni had awakened an itch, had released James Baldwin 110 a gnaw in me. I realized it one afternoon, when I was taking him to work via the Boulevard Montparnasse. We had bought a kilo of cherries and we were eating them as we walked along. We were both insufferably childish and high- spirited that afternoon and the spectacle we presented, two grown men jostling each other on the wide sidewalk and aiming the cherry pits, as though they were spitballs, into each other's faces, must have been outrageous. And I reaUzed that such childishness was fantastic at my age and the happiness out of which it sprang yet more so; for that moment I really loved Giovanni, who had never seemed more beautiful than he was that afternoon. And, watching his face, I realized that it meant much to me that I could make his face so bright. I saw that I might be willing to give a great deal not to lose that power. And I felt myself flow toward him, as a river rushes when the ice breaks up. Yet, at that very moment, there passed between us on the pavement another boy, a stranger, and I invested him at once with Giovanni's beauty and what I felt for Giovanni I also felt for him. Giovanni saw this and saw my face and it made him laugh the more. I blushed and he kept laughing and then the boulevard, the light, the sound of his laughter turned into a scene from a nightmare. I kept looking at the trees, the light falling through the leaves. I felt sorrow and shame and panic and great bitterness. At the same time—it was 111 GIOVANNrS ROOM

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

  Objection 2: Further, if contemplation were the proper and essential cause of devotion, the higher objects of contemplation would arouse greater devotion. But the contrary is the case: since frequently we are urged to greater devotion by considering Christ’s Passion and other mysteries of His humanity than by considering the greatness of His Godhead. Therefore contemplation is not the proper cause of devotion. Objection 3: Further, if contemplation were the proper cause of devotion, it would follow that those who are most apt for contemplation, are also most apt for devotion. Yet the contrary is to be noticed, for devotion is frequently found in men of simplicity and members of the female sex, who are defective in contemplation. Therefore contemplation is not the proper cause of devotion. On the contrary, It is written (Ps. 38:4): “In my meditation a fire shall flame out.” But spiritual fire causes devotion. Therefore meditation is the cause of devotion. I answer that, The extrinsic and chief cause of devotion is God, of Whom Ambrose, commenting on Lk. 9:55, says that “God calls whom He deigns to call, and whom He wills He makes religious: the profane Samaritans, had He so willed, He would have made devout.” But the intrinsic cause on our part must needs be meditation or contemplation. For it was stated above [3004](A[1]) that devotion is an act of the will to the effect that man surrenders himself readily to the service of God. Now every act of the will proceeds from some consideration, since the object of the will is a good understood. Wherefore Augustine says (De Trin. ix, 12; xv, 23) that “the will arises from the intelligence.” Consequently meditation must needs be the cause of devotion, in so far as through meditation man conceives the thought of surrendering himself to God’s service. Indeed a twofold consideration leads him thereto. The one is the consideration of God’s goodness and loving kindness, according to Ps. 72:28, “It is good for me to adhere to my God, to put my hope in the Lord God”: and this consideration wakens love [*’Dilectio,’ the interior act of charity; cf. Q[27]] which is the proximate cause of devotion. The other consideration is that of man’s own shortcomings, on account of which he needs to lean on God, according to Ps. 120:1,2, “I have lifted up my eyes to the mountains, from whence help shall come to me: my help is from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth”; and this consideration shuts out presumption whereby man is hindered from submitting to God, because he leans on His strength. Reply to Objection 1: The consideration of such things as are of a nature to awaken our love [*’Dilectio,’ the interior act of charity; cf. Q[27]] of God, causes devotion; whereas the consideration of foreign matters that distract the mind from such things is a hindrance to devotion.

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

  Now this same grace must needs be something in the man who is graced, something by way of form and perfection. For that which is being directed to an end, must have a continuous order thereto: because the mover causes a continuous change in the thing moved, until the latter by its movement reaches the end. Since then man, as we proved above, is directed to his last end by the assistance of the divine grace, it follows that he must possess this assistance continuously, until he reach his end. But this would not be the case were man to share in this assistance by way of motion or passion, and not by way of a form, abiding and reposing, as it were, within him: for such motion and passion would not be in man except when he is actually turned towards his end, and this is not always so in man, as may be seen especially when he is asleep. Therefore sanctifying grace is a form and perfection abiding in man, even when he is doing nothing. Again. God’s love causes the good that is in us: even as man’s love is evoked and caused by some good in the beloved. Now, man is incited to love someone especially, on account of some good already existing in the beloved. Consequently where there is special love of God for man, we must suppose some special good bestowed on man by God. Since, then, according to what we have been saying, sanctifying grace denotes God’s special love for man, it must in consequence imply the presence of some special goodness and perfection in man. Also. Everything is directed to a suitable end in proportion to its form: since different species have different ends. Now, the end whereto man is directed by the assistance of divine grace is above human nature. Therefore man needs, over and above, a supernatural form and perfection, so as to be suitably directed to that same end. Besides. It behoves man to reach his last end by means of his own actions. Now, everything acts in proportion to its form. Therefore, in order that man may be brought to his last end by means of his own actions, he needs to receive an additional form, whereby his actions may be rendered effective in meriting his last end. Further. Divine providence provides for each thing according to the mode of its nature, as we have shown above. Now, the mode proper to man is that, for the perfection of his operations, he needs, besides his natural powers, certain perfections and habits, to enable him to do the good well as it were connaturally and with both ease and pleasure. Therefore the assistance of grace which man receives from God that he may obtain his last end, denotes a form and perfection abiding in man.

• From Collected Essays (1998)

  You ain't right, child!" With which stern put down, she would hand me another drink and launch into a brilliant analysis of just why I wasn't "right." I would often stagger down her stairs as the sun came up, usually in the middle of a paragraph and always in the middle of a laugh. That marvelous laugh. That marvelous face. I loved her, she was my sister and my comrade. Her going did not so much make me lonely as make me realize how lonely we were. We had that respect for each other which perhaps is only felt by people on the same side of the barricades, listening to the accumulating thunder of the hooves of horses and the treads of tanks. The first time I ever saw Lorraine was at the Actors' Studio, in the Winter of ' 5 8-' 59 . She was there as an observer of the Workshop Production of Giovanni)s Room. She sat way up in the bleachers, taking on some of the biggest names in the American theatre because she had liked the play and they, in the main, hadn't. I was enormously grateful to her, she seemed to speak for me; and afterward she talked to me with a gentleness and generosity never to be forgotten. A small, shy, determined person, with that strength dictated by abso- 757 758 OTHER ESSAYS lutely impersonal ambition: she was not trying to "make it" she was trying to keep the faith. We really met, however, in Philadelphia, in 1959, when A Raisin In The Sttn was at the beginning of its amazing career. Much has been written about this play; I personally feel that it will demand a far less guilty and constricted people than the present-day Americans to be able to assess it at all; as an his torical achievement, anyway, no one can gainsay its impor tance. What is relevant here is that I had never in my life seen so many black people in the theatre. And the reason was that never in the history of the American theatre had so much of the truth of black people's lives been seen on the stage. Black people ignored the theatre because the theatre had always ig nored them. But, in Raisin, black people recognized that house and all the people in it-the mother, the son, the daughter and the daughter-in-law-and supplied the play with an interpretative element which could not be present in the minds of white people: a kind of claustrophobic terror, created not only by their knowledge of the house but by their knowledge of the streets. And when the curtain came down, Lorraine and I found ourselves in the backstage alley, where she was imme diately mobbed.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  Everything in this job is personal: it is government on the ground, journeys of many days with a band of men across deserts or through sudden floods & then the instantaneous fields of flowers. It is not sitting at a desk: it is standing in scant shade & deciding between one naked tribesman and another. It is not bookish & bureaucratic: it takes place in open spaces almost without end, in which the rare, unobvious & beautiful people materialise out of the quivering heat. Their beauty of course is neither here nor there: their heads could grow beneath their shoulders … But when I went back through the doorless aperture into the room where Taha was, asleep, unaware, & yet tormented, like some saint in ecstasy or martyrdom, I felt all my vague, ideal emotions about Africa & my wandering, autocratic life here take substance before my bleary eyes. He lay with his head back, half off the pillow, an arm flung out, the fingers twitching with his pulse, only an inch above the floor … At once I saw he was my responsibility made flesh: he was all the offspring I will never have, all my futurity. He became so beautiful to me that my mouth went dry, & when he woke he found me staring at him. I’m not sure if he was the one I prayed for or the one to whom I made my intercession. I am very, very drunk. It is half past two in the morning. I tiptoe in with fantastical caution, & see him sleeping quietly. Everything I have an impulse to do wd wake him—& that wd be inexcusable. All my love to him goes out in a sweet bedside gesture of self-denial, a kind of blessing, a sweeping of the arms that comes from I don’t know where and is lost into the air. And in a mood of certainty & faint ridiculousness, I stagger to bed. June 1, 1926: A terrible head this morning. I cancelled all engagements, such as they were, & fell into a routine of parallel convalescence with my boy. Hassan evidently foully jealous.

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

  Objection 4: Further, religious are bound by a vow which they may not break to fulfil the observances of religion. Now in accordance with those observances they are hindered from supporting their parents, both on the score of poverty, since they have nothing of their own, and on the score of obedience, since they may not leave the cloister without the permission of their superior. Therefore the duties of piety towards one’s parents should be omitted for the sake of religion. On the contrary, Our Lord reproved the Pharisees (Mat. 15:3–6) who taught that for the sake of religion one ought to refrain from paying one’s parents the honor we owe them. I answer that, Religion and piety are two virtues. Now no virtue is opposed to another virtue, since according to the Philosopher, in his book on the Categories (Cap. De oppos.), “good is not opposed to good.” Therefore it is impossible that religion and piety mutually hinder one another, so that the act of one be excluded by the act of the other. Now, as stated above ([3154]FS, Q[7], A[2]; [3155]FS, Q[18], A[3]), the act of every virtue is limited by the circumstances due thereto, and if it overstep them it will be an act no longer of virtue but of vice. Hence it belongs to piety to pay duty and homage to one’s parents according to the due mode. But it is not the due mode that man should tend to worship his father rather than God, but, as Ambrose says on Lk. 12:52, “the piety of divine religion takes precedence of the claims of kindred.” Accordingly, if the worship of one’s parents take one away from the worship of God it would no longer be an act of piety to pay worship to one’s parents to the prejudice of God. Hence Jerome says (Ep. ad Heliod.): “Though thou trample upon thy father, though thou spurn thy mother, turn not aside, but with dry eyes hasten to the standard of the cross; it is the highest degree of piety to be cruel in this matter.” Therefore in such a case the duties of piety towards one’s parents should be omitted for the sake of the worship religion gives to God. If, however, by paying the services due to our parents, we are not withdrawn from the service of God, then will it be an act of piety, and there will be no need to set piety aside for the sake of religion.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Tr. cx. 4) Nor is this said, however, as if to mean that the Father was not in us, or we in the Father. He only means to say, that He is Mediator between God and man. And what He adds, That they may be made perfect in one, shews that the reconciliation made by this Mediator, was carried on even to the enjoyment of everlasting blessedness. So what follows, That the world may know that Thou hast sent Me, must not be taken to mean the same as the words just above, That the world may believe. For as long as we believe what we do not see, we are not yet made perfect, as we shall be when we have merited to see what we believe. So that when He speaks of their being made perfect, we are to understand such a knowledge as shall be by sight, not such as is by faith. These that believe are the world, not a permanent enemy, but changed from an enemy to a friend; as it follows: And hast loved them, as Thou hast loved Me. The Father loves us in the Son, because He elected us in Him. These words do not prove that we are equal to the Only Begotten Son; for this mode of expression, as one thing so another, does not always signify equality. It sometimes only means, because one thing, therefore another. And this is its meaning here: Thou hast loved them, as Thou hast loved Me, i. e. Thou hast loved them, because Thou hast loved Me. There is no reason for God loving His members, but that He loves him. But since He hateth nothing that He hath made, who can adequately express how much He loves the members of His Only Begotten Son, and still more the Only Begotten Himself. 17:24–2624. Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world. 25. O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee: but I have known thee, and these have known that thou hast sent me. 26. And I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it: that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxxii. 2) After He has said that many should believe on Him through them, and that they should obtain great glory, He then speaks of the crowns in store for them; Father, I will that they also whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am.

• From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

  235 The stories of the second day are about fate and its sudden reversals. As an example, we may take Andreuccio of Perugia, who went to Naples with 500 fl orins to buy horses. He got mixed up with a prostitute who robbed him after he fell into a latrine. Covered with feces, he fell in with two robbers who planned to strip the grave of the recently deceased archbishop. Eventually, he tricked his companions, who had tried to trick him, and he went home with a ruby ring worth more than his lost 500 fl orins. The stories of the fourth and fi fth days are about love, sometimes as a destructive force, or a challenge, or an opportunity. As an example, we may tell the story of Tancredi, the prince of Salerno, and his daughter, Ghismunda. Tancredi and his daughter loved each other tenderly; she married reluctantly, then was soon widowed. She returned to her father’s house and, at his court, observed many men, none of whom pleased her, except for a handsome, debonair servant, Guiscardo. They fell in love, Tancredi discovered the affair, Guiscardo was killed, and his heart was sent to Ghismunda. She delivered a remarkable speech on the power of love, then poisoned herself. The stories of the sixth day are often about language or storytelling. The fi rst story of this day has the noble lady Oretta going out to the countryside. A noble man offers to give her a ride on his horse and to entertain her with a story, but he botches it wretchedly and she fi nally asks him to put her down, claiming that the horse’s trot makes her uncomfortable. The man realizes his gaffe. The stores of the seventh and eighth days are about love again but focus on the tricks adulterous women play on their husbands. The second story of day seven is about beautiful young Peronella, who has an old but dutiful husband. Predictably, she takes a lover, Gianello. One day, her husband returns home unexpectedly and, fi nding the door locked from the inside, is joyous about his virtuous wife. She, meanwhile, is with her lover, whom she hides in a barrel. The husband tells her that he has sold the barrel for fi ve silver coins to the man who has accompanied him. Peronella scolds her husband for not being able to get more for the barrel, because she has sold it for seven coins to the man who is just now inside it inspecting it. Giannello actually gets the husband to clean the barrel for him.

• From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

  214 Lecture 30: Dante Alighieri—Life and Works career: He self-consciously comments on poetry in general and on his poetry in particular. La vita nuova consists of poems, some old and some new, arranged by Dante within a frame, or a running prose commentary. The tradition of commenting at length on a set text was very old and very conventional. As the poems and commentary evolve through 42 sections, convention gives way to novelty. The troubadour poetry of France had fi rst taken root in Italy in Palermo in the court of Emperor Frederick II and was conventional in themes and content but innovative in form: Giacomo da Lentini devised the sonnet. Sicilian poetry was imitated, then superseded by a group of northern poets, chief among whom were Guido Guinizzelli (d. 1276), Cino da Pistoia (1270–1336), and Guido Cavalcanti (c. 1250–1300). The poets wrote in what came to be called il dolce stil nuovo (“the sweet new style”—hence, the stilnovisti). Previously, Italian poetry had stuck closely to French conventions and issues. Fundamental was the notion that love of a lady and love of God were somehow incompatible. The stilnovisti “theologized” French poetry by asserting that the lady might lead a man to God. On one level, La vita nuova narrates Dante’s love for Beatrice from their initial encounter, to the time she fi rst greeted him, to a wedding feast where he swooned in her presence, to her death, to his attempts to love others, to his dawning understanding—perhaps re-understanding of love. On the most Dante Alighieri, great writer and literary innovator who infl uenced generations of writers. Corel Stock Photo Library.

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

  Now this may be viewed with respect to our “furtherance in good.” First, with regard to faith, which is made more certain by believing God Himself Who speaks; hence Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xi, 2): “In order that man might journey more trustfully toward the truth, the Truth itself, the Son of God, having assumed human nature, established and founded faith.” Secondly, with regard to hope, which is thereby greatly strengthened; hence Augustine says (De Trin. xiii): “Nothing was so necessary for raising our hope as to show us how deeply God loved us. And what could afford us a stronger proof of this than that the Son of God should become a partner with us of human nature?” Thirdly, with regard to charity, which is greatly enkindled by this; hence Augustine says (De Catech. Rudib. iv): “What greater cause is there of the Lord’s coming than to show God’s love for us?” And he afterwards adds: “If we have been slow to love, at least let us hasten to love in return.” Fourthly, with regard to well-doing, in which He set us an example; hence Augustine says in a sermon (xxii de Temp.): “Man who might be seen was not to be followed; but God was to be followed, Who could not be seen. And therefore God was made man, that He Who might be seen by man, and Whom man might follow, might be shown to man.” Fifthly, with regard to the full participation of the Divinity, which is the true bliss of man and end of human life; and this is bestowed upon us by Christ’s humanity; for Augustine says in a sermon (xiii de Temp.): “God was made man, that man might be made God.”

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

  I answer that, As stated above [3819](A[1]), the religious state is directed to the perfection of charity, which extends to the love of God and of our neighbor. Now the contemplative life which seeks to devote itself to God alone belongs directly to the love of God, while the active life, which ministers to our neighbor’s needs, belongs directly to the love of one’s neighbor. And just as out of charity we love our neighbor for God’s sake, so the services we render our neighbor redound to God, according to Mat. 25:40, “What you have done [Vulg.: ‘As long as you did it’] to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me.” Consequently those services which we render our neighbor, in so far as we refer them to God, are described as sacrifices, according to Heb. 13:16, “Do not forget to do good and to impart, for by such sacrifices God’s favor is obtained.” And since it belongs properly to religion to offer sacrifice to God, as stated above (Q[81], A[1], ad 1; A[4], ad 1), it follows that certain religious orders are fittingly directed to the works of the active life. Wherefore in the Conferences of the Fathers (Coll. xiv, 4) the Abbot Nesteros in distinguishing the various aims of religious orders says: “Some direct their intention exclusively to the hidden life of the desert and purity of heart; some are occupied with the instruction of the brethren and the care of the monasteries; while others delight in the service of the guesthouse,” i.e. in hospitality. Reply to Objection 1: Service and subjection rendered to God are not precluded by the works of the active life, whereby a man serves his neighbor for God’s sake, as stated in the Article. Nor do these works preclude singularity of life; not that they involve man’s living apart from his fellow-men, but in the sense that each man individually devotes himself to things pertaining to the service of God; and since religious occupy themselves with the works of the active life for God’s sake, it follows that their action results from their contemplation of divine things. Hence they are not entirely deprived of the fruit of the contemplative life.

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

  2. Again, election is of those who exist. But predestination is also of those who do not exist, since predestination is from eternity. There must therefore be some who are predestined without being elected. 3. Again, election implies discrimination. But it is said in 1 Tim. 2:4: “ Who will have all men to be saved. ” Thus predestination preordains all men to salvation. It is therefore without election. On the other hand: it is said in Eph. 1:4: “ according as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world. ” I answer: predestination presupposes election by its very nature, and election presupposes love. The reason for this is that predestination is part of providence, as we observed in Art. 1. We also said that providence, like prudence, is the reason preconceived in the mind for the ordination of things to an end (Q. 22, Art. 2). Now the ordination of something to an end cannot be preconceived unless the end is already willed. The predestination of some to eternal salvation therefore means that God has already willed their salvation. This involves both election and love. It involves love, because God wills the good of eternal salvation for them, to love being the same as to will good for someone (Q. 20, Arts. 2, 3). It involves election, because he wills this good for some in preference to others, some being rejected, as we said in Art. 3. But election and love are not the same in God as they are in ourselves. Our will is not the cause of the good in what we love. We are induced to love by good which exists already. We thus choose someone whom we shall love, and our choice precedes our love. With God, it is the reverse. When God wills some good to one whom he loves, his will is the cause of this good being in him, rather than in any other. It is plain, then, that the very meaning of election presupposes love, and that predestination presupposes election. All who are predestined are therefore elected, and loved also. On the first point: we said in Q. 6, Art. 4, that there is nothing which does not share something of God ’ s goodness. There is therefore no election in the universal bestowal of God ’ s goodness, if this is what we have in mind. But if we are thinking of the bestowal of one particular good or another, this is not without election, since God gives certain good things to some which he does not give to others. Election is likewise involved in the bestowal of grace and glory.

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

  Moreover man performs certain sensible actions, not to arouse God, but to arouse himself to things divine: such as prostrations, genuflexions, raising of the voice and singing. Such things are not done as though God needed them, for He knows all things, and His will is unchangeable, and He looks at the affection of the heart, and not the mere movement of the body: but we do them for our own sake, that by them our intention may be fixed on God, and our hearts inflamed. At the same time we thereby confess that God is the author of our soul and body, since we employ both soul and body in the worship we give Him. Hence we must not wonder that heretics who deny that God is the author of our body, decry the offering of this bodily worship to God. Wherein it is clear that they forget that they are men, inasmuch as they deem the presentation of sensible objects to be unnecessary for interior knowledge and affection. For experience shows that by acts of the body the soul is aroused to a certain knowledge or affection. Wherefore it is evidently reasonable that we should employ bodies in order to raise our minds to God. The offering of these bodily things to God is called the worship (cultus) of God. For we speak of cultivating those things to which we give our thought in the shape of deeds. Now, we give our thought to God in our actions, not indeed that we may be of advantage to Him, as when we cultivate other things by our actions: but because by such actions we advance towards God. And since by internal acts we tend to God directly, therefore properly speaking we worship God by internal acts. Nevertheless external acts also belong to the divine worship, forasmuch as by these acts the mind is raised to God, as we have said. This divine worship is also called religion: because by these acts man tethers (ligat) himself, as it were, lest he stray from God. Also, because by a kind of natural instinct he feels himself obliged in his own way to show reverence to God, from whom flows His being and every good. Wherefore religion is called piety. Because by piety we give due honour to those who begot us. Hence it would seem reasonably to belong to piety to honour God the Father of all. For this reason those who are averse to the worship of God are said to be impious.

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

  Reply to Objection 2: No man is excused from ingratitude through inability to repay, for the very reason that the mere will suffices for the repayment of the debt of gratitude, as stated above ([3192]Q[106], A[6], ad 1). Forgetfulness of a favor received amounts to ingratitude, not indeed the forgetfulness that arises from a natural defect, that is not subject to the will, but that which arises from negligence. For, as Seneca observes (De Benef. iii), “when forgetfulness of favors lays hold of a man, he has apparently given little thought to their repayment.” Reply to Objection 3: The debt of gratitude flows from the debt of love, and from the latter no man should wish to be free. Hence that anyone should owe this debt unwillingly seems to arise from lack of love for his benefactor. Whether ingratitude is a special sin?Objection 1: It seems that ingratitude is not a special sin. For whoever sins acts against God his sovereign benefactor. But this pertains to ingratitude. Therefore ingratitude is not a special sin. Objection 2: Further, no special sin is contained under different kinds of sin. But one can be ungrateful by committing different kinds of sin, for instance by calumny, theft, or something similar committed against a benefactor. Therefore ingratitude is not a special sin. Objection 3: Further, Seneca writes (De Benef. iii): “It is ungrateful to take no notice of a kindness, it is ungrateful not to repay one, but it is the height of ingratitude to forget it.” Now these do not seem to belong to the same species of sin. Therefore ingratitude is not a special sin. On the contrary, Ingratitude is opposed to gratitude or thankfulness, which is a special virtue. Therefore it is a special sin. I answer that, Every vice is denominated from a deficiency of virtue, because deficiency is more opposed to virtue: thus illiberality is more opposed to liberality than prodigality is. Now a vice may be opposed to the virtue of gratitude by way of excess, for instance if one were to show gratitude for things for which gratitude is not due, or sooner than it is due, as stated above ([3193]Q[106], A[4]). But still more opposed to gratitude is the vice denoting deficiency of gratitude, because the virtue of gratitude, as stated above ([3194]Q[106], A[6]), inclines to return something more. Wherefore ingratitude is properly denominated from being a deficiency of gratitude. Now every deficiency or privation takes its species from the opposite habit: for blindness and deafness differ according to the difference of sight and hearing. Therefore just as gratitude or thankfulness is one special virtue, so also is ingratitude one special sin.

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

  Reply to Objection 1: From the very fact that truth is the end of contemplation, it has the aspect of an appetible good, both lovable and delightful, and in this respect it pertains to the appetitive power. Reply to Objection 2: We are urged to the vision of the first principle, namely God, by the love thereof; wherefore Gregory says (Hom. xiv in Ezech.) that “the contemplative life tramples on all cares and longs to see the face of its Creator.” Reply to Objection 3: The appetitive power moves not only the bodily members to perform external actions, but also the intellect to practice the act of contemplation, as stated above. Whether the moral virtues pertain to the contemplative life?Objection 1: It would seem that the moral virtues pertain to the contemplative life. For Gregory says (Hom. xiv in Ezech.) that “the contemplative life is to cling to the love of God and our neighbor with the whole mind.” Now all the moral virtues, since their acts are prescribed by the precepts of the Law, are reducible to the love of God and of our neighbor, for “love . . . is the fulfilling of the Law” (Rom. 13:10). Therefore it would seem that the moral virtues belong to the contemplative life. Objection 2: Further, the contemplative life is chiefly directed to the contemplation of God; for Gregory says (Hom. xiv in Ezech.) that “the mind tramples on all cares and longs to gaze on the face of its Creator.” Now no one can accomplish this without cleanness of heart, which is a result of moral virtue [*Cf.[3720] Q[8], A[7]]. For it is written (Mat. 5:8): “Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God”: and (Heb. 12:14): “Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see God.” Therefore it would seem that the moral virtues pertain to the contemplative life. Objection 3: Further, Gregory says (Hom. xiv in Ezech.) that “the contemplative life gives beauty to the soul,” wherefore it is signified by Rachel, of whom it is said (Gn. 29:17) that she was “of a beautiful countenance.” Now the beauty of the soul consists in the moral virtues, especially temperance, as Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 43,45,46). Therefore it seems that the moral virtues pertain to the contemplative life. On the contrary, The moral virtues are directed to external actions. Now Gregory says (Moral. vi [*Hom. xiv in Ezech.; Cf. A[1], OBJ[3]]) that it belongs to the contemplative life “to rest from external action.” Therefore the moral virtues do not pertain to the contemplative life.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Tract. lxxix. 2) i. e. the devil; the prince of sinners, not of creatures; as the Apostle saith, Against the rulers of this world. (Eph. 6:12) Or, as He immediately adds by way of explanation, this darkness, meaning, the ungodly. And hath nothing in Me. God had no sin as God, nor had His flesh contracted it by a sinful birth, being born of the Virgin. But how, it might be asked, canst thou die, if thou hast no sin: He answers, But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father gave Me commandment, even so I do. Arise, let us go hence. He had been sitting at table with them all this time. Let us go: i. e. to the place, where He, Who had done nothing to deserve death, was to be delivered to death. But He had a commandment from His Father to die. AUGUSTINE. (contr. Serm. Arrian. c. xi.) That the Son is obedient to the will and commandment of the Father, no more shews a difference in the two, than it would in a human father and son. But over and above this comes the consideration that Christ is not only God, and as such equal to the Father, but also man, and as such inferior to the Father. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxvi. 1) Arise, let us go hence, is the beginning of the sentence which follows. The time and the place (they were in the midst of a town, and it was night time) had excited the disciples’ fears to such a degree, that they could not attend to any thing that was said, but rolled their eyes about, expecting persons to enter and assault them; especially when they heard our Lord say, Yet a little while I am with you; and, The prince of this world cometh. To quiet their alarm then, He takes them to another place, where they imagine themselves safe, and would be able to attend to the great doctrines which He was going to set before them. CHAPTER 15 15:1–31. I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. 2. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. 3. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you. HILARY. (ix. de Trin) He rises in haste to perform the sacrament of His final passion in the flesh, (such is His desire to fulfil His Father’s commandment:) and therefore takes occasion to unfold the mystery of His assumption of His flesh, whereby He supports us, as the vine doth its branches: I am the true vine.

• From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

  202 Lecture 28: Tristan and Isolt the man who loves—and serves—her. A transformation of the chivalric code is evident, too. The “man’s world” of Beowulf and Roland gave way before a world of “gentlemen,” who displayed their gentility in their conduct regarding women. Courtoisie (“courtesy”) is essentially “courtiness,” the way people behave in courts, not on battlefi elds. There has been considerable controversy over the sources and meaning of this love poetry. Some suggest that it stems from the classical love poetry of, for example, Ovid (43 B.C.–17 A.D.). Others point to the emergence in the vernacular of the classically inspired love lyrics of the medieval clerical schools. Others argue for Arabic in fl uences coming from Spain (this may bear on form but probably not on content). A few still maintain that old “popular”poetry is behind the new poetry (but why, then, is it so learned, intricate, and aristocratic?). Historians sometimes point to general social conditions involving life in castles and the presence of large numbers of young men seeking fame, wealth, a lord, and a wife. There are also problems surrounding the proper interpretation of the poetry, because it fl aunts the conventions of Christian and feudal society. Is it ironic? Is it a searing condemnation of sensualism and immorality? Does it allow women powerful, dynamic roles; place them on pedestals; or mock them? Whatever we may think, the new poetry put love and courtly behavior at the center of literary production. Around the middle of the 12 th century, the romance (from Old French mettre en romanz , literally “to translate into French”) made its appearance. The romance was an amalgam of two bodies of source material. As to content, the romance drew on classical themes—stories about Troy, Thebes, Alexander, Aeneas—or on the “matter of Britain”—the stories of King Arthur and his court. As to ethos, the romance drew on lyric poetry and put love themes at the center of almost every story. Romances are full of magic and enchantment. Themes of journey or quest are common. Mistaken identities and disguises are recurrent. In the early 12 th century, romances were in verse (typically in octosyllabic lines), but by later in the century, prose romances emerged. Because writers of romances borrowed freely from their common sources and from

• From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

  167 Cnemon: The “Grouch” of Menander’s play Dyskolos; father of Myrrhine and stepfather of Gorgias. Daphne: In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, a nymph, sworn to chastity, whom Apollo desires and chases. She calls out for help to her father, a river god, and is turned into a laurel tree. Dionysus (Roman Bacchus): Son of Zeus and the mortal woman Semele. After Semele’s incineration, Dionysus was incubated in Zeus’s thigh. He is the god of wine, intoxication, frenzy, and drama; also associated with rapidly growing plants, such as vine and ivy. Euripides’s Bacchae is our fullest extant description of him. Encolpius: The narrator/hero of Petronius’s Satyricon. Giton: The young male lover of Encolpius in Petronius’s Satyricon. Gorgias: Character in Menander’s Dyskolos; helps Sostratus marry Myrrhine, who is Gorgias’s stepsister. Hera (Roman Juno): Wife and sister of Zeus, mother of Hephaestus and Ares. She is the patron goddess of marriage and married women. In the Iliad, she hates the Trojans and favors the Greeks. Heracles: Greatest Greek hero, son of Zeus and the mortal woman Alcmene. He lived (probably) two generations before the Trojan War. He appears as a character in several tragedies and in Aristophanes’s comedy Frogs. Io: Young woman, pursued by Jove, whom he turned into a heifer to hide her from Juno. Isis: Great Egyptian goddess, who appears to Lucius at the end of Apuleius’s Golden Ass. Juno: See Hera. 168 Biographical Notes (Lectures 13–24) Lucius: The main character and narrator of Apuleius’s Golden Ass. Myrrhine: Character in Menander’s Dyskolos; daughter of Cnemon. The play’s plot centers on Sostratus’s desire to marry her and the steps he must take in order to do so. Narcissus: Beautiful youth who fell in love with his own re fl ection and pined away (in Ovid’s Metamorphoses ). Odysseus (Roman Ulysses): Husband of Penelope, father of Telemachus. Cleverest and craftiest of the Greeks; an important character in the Iliad, where he takes part in the embassy to Achilles (Book IX). Main character of the Odyssey. Patroclus: Achilles’s dearest friend, who goes into battle wearing Achilles’s armor and is killed by Hector. Penelope: Wife of Odysseus, mother of Telemachus. One of the main themes of the Odyssey is her courting by 108 suitors and the dif fi culties this causes her. The question of whether or not she will remain faithful to Odysseus permeates the epic. Phidippides: Character in Aristophanes’s Clouds. The spoiled son of Strepsiades, whose Sophistic education leads him to argue that sons have the right to beat their fathers. Poseidon: Brother of Zeus, god of the sea. In the Iliad, he favors the Greeks; in the Odyssey, he hates Odysseus for blinding his son, the Cyclops Polyphemos. Pyramus: In Ovid’s Metamorphoses , a young man who commits suicide when he thinks his beloved Thisbe is dead. Sostratus: Character in Menander’s Dyskolos; the “young lover” whose desire to marry Myrrhine drives the plot of the play.