Chapter, Paragraph

 1 Intro,      0|       and immovable look, gazed, full of love, on her Savior,
 2   1,      6  |         he becomes a brute beast full of stench, and in this case
 3   2,      5  |       the poor wretched creature full of such ignorance could
 4   2,     15  |        and the miserable soul is full of ingratitude, whence proceeds
 5   2,     17  | immediately combined with pride, full of its own opinions, goes
 6   2,     25  |        to fill it, because it is full, but they have an exultation,
 7   2,     25  |        seem to them terrible, or full of hatred, because they
 8   2,     28  |          the body, her desire is full, for, desiring to see Me,
 9   2,     33  |         grace, and a man, who is full of My love and that of his
10   2,     33  |  resounds, but not so when it is full. So memory, being filled
11   2,     33  |     impatience, because they are full of Me, who am every good. ~
12   2,     41  |        drinks, it always remains full. So the love of the neighbor,
13   3,      2  |      satisfies herself, becoming full of love for Me and for her
14   3,     14  |        come on her, her heart is full of grief. And, as soon as
15   3,     16  |           displeasing to Me, and full of hatred and unkindness
16   3,     16  |      seven mortal sins which are full of many and diverse wickednesses,
17   3,     17  |         might seem to me, a mind full of darkness; have I the
18   3,     20  |     knowing, and tasting, in its full sweetness, this light, she
19   3,     21  |       earnest-money, but not the full payment, because they wait
20   3,     21  |          desire, are blessed and full of grief, even as My only-begotten
21   3,     21  |         sweet Will, and they are full of grief through compassion
22   3,     22  |       Father! I am imperfect and full of darkness, and You, Perfection
23   3,     28  |  glorious ones, My beloved, have full experience, for nothing
24   4,      6  |         of his body. His cell is full of the odor of poverty,
25   4,     11  |      many miseries of which I am full; You, who are the Infinite,
26 Lette,      0|     unable to lift her head, and full of intolerable pains, from
27 Lette,      0|         bitter sweet to her. How full of tender affection was