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I live in the midst of almost continuous privations. At the most, my sweet Jesus makes Himself seen, and then He escapes me like a flash. Ah! only Jesus knows the martyrdom of my poor heart. Now, I was thinking about the love with which He suffered so much for us, and my always lovable Jesus told me: "My daughter, my first martyrdom was Love; and Love delivered my second martyrdom: pain. Each pain was preceded by immense seas of Love. But when Love found Itself alone and abandoned by the majority of creatures, I raved, I agonized, and since my Love could not find anyone to whom to give Itself, It concentrated within Me, drowning Me and giving Me such pains, that all other pains seemed a refreshment compared to these. Ah! if only I had company in Love, I would feel happy, because with company all things acquire happiness, and they diffuse – they multiply.
Love close to another love is happy - be it even the most tiny love - because it finds one to whom to give itself, one to whom to make itself known, one to whom to give life through its own love. But if it is close to someone who does not love it, who despises it, who does not care about it, love is very unhappy, because it does not find the way to communicate itself and to give him life. Beauty close to ugliness feels dishonored, and it seems that they shun each other, because beauty hates ugliness, while ugliness close to beauty feels more ugly. What is beautiful is happy to be close to something beautiful, and they communicate beauty to each other. The same for all other things.
What is the use for a teacher of being learned and having studied so much, if he cannot find a pupil to whom to teach? Oh! how unhappy he is, not finding anyone to whom to teach so much doctrine. What is the use for a doctor of having understood the art of medicine, if no sick person calls him to make display of his ability? What is the use for a rich person of being rich, if nobody approaches him, and remaining alone in spite of his riches, not finding the way to make them known and to communicate them to someone, he may die of starvation? Only company is that which makes everyone happy, allowing good to be carried out, and making it grow. Isolation makes one unhappy, and renders everything sterile. Ah! my daughter - oh! how my Love suffers this isolation; and those few who keep Me company form my refreshment and my happiness."
