She seemed to burn in the first fire of love: “Brother, our will is quieted by virtue 1240 Of charity, that makes us wish alone For what we have, nor gives us thirst for more. If to be more exalted we aspired, Discordant would our aspirations be Unto the will of Him who here secludes us; Which thou shalt see finds no place in these circles, If being in charity is needful here, And if thou lookest well into its nature; Nay, ’tis essential to this blest existence To keep itself within the will divine, Whereby our very wishes are made one; So that, as we are station above station Throughout this realm, to all the realm ’tis pleasing, As to the King, who makes his will our will. And his will is our peace; this is the sea To which is moving onward whatsoever It doth create, and all that nature makes.” Then it was clear to me how everywhere In heaven is Paradise, although the grace Of good supreme there rain not in one measure. But as it comes to pass, if one food sates,