Love thy neighbor (n.) picks the lock of self-love with 'as thyself' — two little words that leave selfishness no loophole, gripping it tighter than any wrestler.
Love thy neighbor (n.) is not sung but acted: beside every word of Scripture stands, in invisible writing, “Go thou and do likewise” — hardly an invitation to sing.
Love thy neighbor (n.) can never fuse two into one self: it is love between two beings each eternally determined as spirit, and two spirits cannot become one selfish self.
Love thy neighbor (n.) could become “Love your neighbor as you love your sweetheart” when commanded to a man truly in love.
Love thy neighbor (n.) is the only love qualified by love: earthly love is qualified by its object, friendship by its object, and because the neighbor has none of their perfections, this love has all of love's.
Love thy neighbor (n.) embraces everyone and yet loves each one individually — but no one in particular.
Love thy neighbor (n.) asks its lover neither to abolish distinctions nor to serve them but to pervade his own with Christian equality — and he fits nowhere, a lost sheep among ravening wolves on every side.
Love thy neighbor (n.) brings a twofold danger: the lover's own class calls him a traitor, the other class mocks him as an intruder.
Love thy neighbor (n.) seems too belittling for the distinguished and too presumptuous for the humble.
Love thy neighbor (n.) is not a cast-off earthly love but the last and highest love, which must be placed even before the lovers' first and highest moment.
Love thy neighbor (n.) is the old commandment always new: unlike human laws that grow antiquated or are changed by agreement of those who obey them, it stays equally new on the day it has become the oldest.