"<p>How many times in life have we heard this plea, this command, this desperate cry, as if it had been shouted from the gates of death, as if it had been lifted up to heaven from the pits of shame and destruction. "Love me!" As if someone, out of stinginess or with evil intent, refuses some kind of alms from a dying soul, as if we are really powerful, but we do not want to use our power, as if loving someone depends on some consideration or determination! "Love me!" As if a damned man were begging, "Save me!" As if a mortally wounded man were to cry out: "Help!" But since I want, I want to help... come on, a glass of water! Bring money! Come on, tenderness! Only you can give me the rest of what I need to love you.</p>"