The Soul is shriveled up and buried in a grave that does not love.

We love we know not what, and therefore everything allures us.

Your enjoyment of the world is never right, till every morning you awake in Heaven: see yourself in your Father's palace; and look upon the skies, the earth, and the air as celestial joys: having such a reverend esteem of all, as if you were among the angels.

Sure Man was born to meditate on things, And to contemplate the eternal springs Of God and Nature, glory, bliss and pleasure: That life and love might be his eternal treasure.

You are as prone to love as the sun is to shine; it being the most delightful and natural employment of the soul of humans.

The soul is made for action, and cannot rest till it be employed. Idleness is its rust. Unless it will up and think and taste and see, all is in vain.

Had we not loved ourselves at all, we could never have been obliged to love anything. So that self-love is the basis of all love.