One evening, at a loss for words to tell Jesus how I loved Him and how much I wished that He might be everywhere served and glorified, I reflected with pain that not one act of love would ever mount upwards from out of the depths of hell. Then I cried out that willingly would I consent to see myself plunged into that place of torment and blasphemy, in order that He might be loved there eternally. That could not really glorify Him since He desires only our happiness, but love makes one want to say a thousand foolish things. If I spoke thus, it was not that I did not long for heaven; but then, my heaven was none other than Love, and in my fervour I felt that nothing could separate me from the Divine object of my love. . . .
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. V
Seeing the eternal recompense so
disproportionate to the trifling sacrifices
of this life, I longed to love Jesus, to love
Him ardently, to give Him a thousand
