In the midst of silence a hidden word was spoken to me. Where is this Silence, and where is the place in which this word is spoken? It is in the purest that the soul can produce, in her noblest part, in the ground, even the Being of the Soul.
Love the beautiful in everything; it is a ray of light divine. It is love's beauty. The beautiful thrills us into a kind of ecstasy, suspending the din of our inward activity in the silence of admiration; and admiration gives our nature a kind of fulfillment, a restful satiety asking for nothing more. It is the very essence of contemplative adoration.