And though I have the gift of enchanting language, and can unravel all mysteries, and absorb all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could change the world by sharing my ideas, and have not love, I am nothing.
And though I give a portion of my royalties to feed the poor, and though I put my reputation on the line for the Truth, and have not love, it profits me nothing.
Love suffers rejection, and is faithful. Love doesn’t envy the success of others. Love isn’t prideful about accomplishments. Love isn’t puffed up.
Love isn’t self-focused, doesn’t seek favor, is not oversensitive to criticism, is not easily threatened.
Love rejoices at the success of others. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails: but where there be prophetic writings, they will fail; Where there be inspired messages, they will cease; where there be magnificent stories, they will vanish away.
For we understand in part, and we write in part. But when perfection arrives, then my scraps of writing will be washed away.
When I was a child, I wrote as a child, I understood as a child, I reasoned as a child; but when I became an adult, I put away childish things.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I am known in part, but then I will be known fully.
And now I must write faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
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