What does it matter to the soul that is recollected in itself, enlightened by this Word, whether it feels or does not feel, whether it be in light or in darkness, in sensible joy or not? It is, as it were, ashamed to make any distinction between such things, while it feels that it is still affected by them and heartily despising itself for its want of love, it quickly turns its gaze upon its Master that He may deliver it.