Limited love demands possession of the beloved, but infinite love desires only its own essence. There is a love that comes between the wakefulness and heedlessness of youth, which contents itself with meeting someone and being with him, and which grows with kisses and hugs. But the love that is born in infinite breasts, which descends with the mysteries of night, cannot be content with less than eternity, and does not stand awestruck before anything but divinity.
