Look at him!

The noble person loves in such a way that nothing encroaches upon his love, that his love becomes the very content of life itself, down the blood and marrow, outsurging from the very source from which his life flows. Nothing anymore is outside of it, and everything — everything, past, present, future, memories, scars, losses, every great and small thing, every moment and heartbeat and breath of life — everything is inside of it. It becomes the very shroud enwombing life in its entirety, the very waters bursting through the seams of existence and sustaining it. Like a moth driven to a flame the whole fires of his being he concentrates into this single act of merging with his beloved, this single act that opens him unto eternity and roots him there, a reed flowing with its waters. He grows, yet his love remains, youthful as at the moment of its inception, growing younger even with each day. Look at him; you can see it in his face. The fire has consumed him, and his face is a fountainhead of light. Look at him!

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