p. 22 What was more pitiful than me, a pitiful person not pitying himself but weeping for the death of Dido, which came about through her “love” of Aeneas; while I didn’t weep for my own death, which was coming about through not loving you, God, the light of my heart and the bread I eat within my soul, and the manliness that actually marries my mind and is a legitimate husband to the bosom of my meditations?
Mind on heavenly priorities; not overly consumed by finding in this life what we actually long for in heaven
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