The past is never dead. It's not even past. — William Faulkner
True love is embodied in the constant recognition of the goodness of God which makes the lover entirely unconscious of his own merit in loving. He loves the neighbor, not himself through his neighbor. He even forgets that he is a lover, so intent is he upon the needs of the beloved. He is so conscious of the source of love and the end of love that he confesses, “I can do nothing on my own authority.”
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