Love itself describes its own perfection. Be speechless and listen.
There is no worse sickness for the soul, o you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection.
The world is a mirror, an imaging of Love's perfection.
How will you know the difficulties of being human, if you are always flying off to blue perfection? Where will you plant your grief seeds? Workers need ground to scrape and hoe, not the sky of unspecified desire.
Achieve some perfection [excellence] yourself, so that you may not fall into sorrow by seeing the perfection in others.
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