“O son, burst thy chains and be free! How long wilt thou be a bondsman to silver and gold? If thou pour the sea into a pitcher, how much will it hold? One day’s store. The pitcher, the eye of the covetous, never becomes full: the oyster-shell is not filled with pearls until it is contented. He (alone) whose garment is rent by a (mighty) love is purged of covetousness and all defect. Hail, O Love that bringest us good gain – thou that art the physician of all our ills, The remedy of our pride and vainglory, our Plato and our Galen!”
