Love's (n.) test is how one relates not to saints and scholars but to rascals.
Love (n.) at its holiest runs the wrong way round: the hope is to love the greatest saint as God loves the greatest rascal.
Love (n.) is a community's health and truth its only vaccine, yet truth takes learning and love is in short supply.
Love (n.) cannot run on two tracks at once, so a scholar lost in his Torah cannot in that moment love God.
Love (n.) finds every individual death absurd and beyond the comfort of argument.
Love (n.) is, for Hosea, the hidden strategy behind everything God does in history.
Love (n.) as we imagine it is a flame, a spike, a moment; but God's first words were 'Let there be light.'
Love (n.) is relocating the center of your inner life from yourself to someone else, and the craving never quite quenches.
Love (n.) language (n.) needs analogies for outsiders but is understood at once by the person it is meant for.
Love (n.) is not merely quenched wrath, as Otto held; God's love outlasts even his cruelest wrath.
Love (n.) cannot be known from the outside; only lovers, or those who vividly remember loving, understand it.
Love (n.) at its highest, a rabbi prayed, is loving the greatest saint the way God loves the greatest rascal.
Love (n.) lives incognito in every soul as a compulsion to forget oneself.
Love (n.) is a way of being with someone, more than a mood in one soul.