It is more than comfort that I give. Comfort is nice, yet it is an interlude. It is a stopgap. Comfort soothes. What is there to soothe, beloveds, but illusion? Where Truth is, there is no use for comfort. In Truth, what need is there for comfort? What would comfort soothe? In Truth, there is no boo-boo to kiss.

Do not settle for comfort. Do not settle for less than joy. Let Me give you joy. Let Me fill your heart. As quickly as I fill your heart with love, spend it, for there is more. The more you empty your heart, the fuller it is. Your cup runneth over. As I pour, I spill, and yet not a drop is wasted. No need to wipe it up. There is no housekeeping in Heaven. Simply let love follow its course, and, of course, its course is to the Ocean from where it came. From Ocean to Ocean, from shining sea to shining sea.

Love has no strings. What need of strings does love freely given have? When love is not counted but simply given, what good would strings serve? No good at all.

I clasp you in My love as I free you. No strings. All the love in Heaven and in the world, and no strings. No need to tether you, for you soak in My love. With every breath, you drink in My love. There is enough. There is enough of My love to fill all troughs. You are sated with My love of which there can be only abundance and affluence. You have all of My love, and that is great love indeed.

My love is not apportioned. There is no measurement to it. It is generously given without regard to anything. It is not counted. It is not weighed. It is simply given. That is the way of love. There is a perpetual fountain of love. What is anything next to love? Good, I fill up your heart with love right now.

The love in your heart never needs to be replenished. Only in your awareness does such a possibility exist. What imagination is this, what folly, that a heart of Mine such as yours could be emptied? Where could your love go when all is love? It cannot go off somewhere. It can only go everywhere all the time, yet you keep examining your heart and finding it wanting. This is the height of illusion. Yet how in thrall you are to illusion. You even imagine that your heart is filled with lesser things. You imagine that your heart is fraught with paltry made-up emotions. You have thought your heart was filled with absurdities such as anger and despair. I do not like to even say the words. Those words represent nothing, beloveds, nothing except illusion. Words are the bogeyman, beloved. Next to love, such concepts cannot exist.

Your heart wears a mask, and you believe in the mask. You do not conceive of the fullness of love in your heart. Look into the contents of your heart as you would your purse. What can be thrown out? The love in your heart will not leave. The rest is only clutter. If dust has flown into your heart, remove the dust now. A heart is meant to be full of love and love alone. Your heart is full of love. No longer hide from yourself and perhaps the world the love that reigns in your heart. The sovereign of your heart is love. So be it.

Why bother with anything else but love? Why give anything else the time of day?