My daughter, my son,
my first executioner was Love.
This is why in the course of my Passion,
there was not even a reproachful glance in Me
toward those who acted as my executioners.
Because I had a more cruel, more active executioner in Me: Love.
And where the external executioners could not reach,
or a little part of Me was spared,
Love would continue Its work and spare Me nothing.
This happens in all souls:
the first work is done by Love.
And once Love has worked her and filled her with Itself,
what appears on the outside is nothing, but
the outpouring of the crafting that Love has performed inside.”(…)