In her "Miscellaneous Writings," under the caption "Love," Mary Baker Eddy says (pp. 249, 250): "What a word! I am in awe before it. Over what worlds on worlds it hath range and is sovereign! the underived, the incomparable, the infinite All of good, the alone God, is Love."
To human sense, Love is a miracle. To itself, Love is essentially natural. It is divine —perfect, complete in itself, eternal, invariable, incapable of discord, frustration, changeableness, or instability.
Love is incorporeal, free from physicality and personal sense. It is supreme, for it stands alone and as One in its glory and majesty. It is infinite, boundless, measureless, unconfined. Love reveals the nature and essence of God; hence its power, its presence, its intuitiveness. Love derives from nothing but itself; it enfolds its object within itself as its own immediate evidence, for Love is all-inclusive, all-embracing. It is incomparable because it has no peer, no competitor, no rival—"the alone God, is Love." Hence the purity of Love, the strength of Love, the joy of Love. Love is dependent on nothing but itself, knows nothing but itself, believes nothing but itself, is nothing but itself. It loves because it is Love. There is no outside to Love, no boundary. Love has no likes and dislikes. It has no favorites; it is just One.
