I have not lived, not risen with Jesus. My eyes did not see, my ears have not heard, my heart did not love, my body felt nothing but pain. The look of my eyes was not mine, nor the hearing of my ears, nor the feeling of my body, nor the love of my heart, nor the smile that covered all this, nothing of this was mine. Who did they belong to? Jesus knows, I cannot say anything. Joy is for those whom Jesus wants to give it, but not for me.
But I'm content. I do not live; He lives in souls with His divine life. I did not rise, may they arise to Jesus. I have no love to offer my Lord, may He accept the love of all hearts and the total offering of all His creatures. I have no language to praise Him, may He accept the praise of all heaven and earth. All heaven and earth praise and bless Him; only I, poor thing, am excluded, though I am part of it. I cannot join myself with the blessed in heaven, nor with the righteous of the earth. All the wickedness and misery of the world are mine.