Which isn’t to say that love isn’t willing to pour itself out for the sake of the beloved, or that it keeps track of its own apportioning, as if there were an amount of itself that it should be willing to give, and beyond that no more, but only that it recognizes that the separateness of all things means that each thing, in its relation to each other thing and to the divine, has a privacy that love will honor by acknowledging and keeping in sight, and in the context of which it will modulate its expression.