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would need more than that, you would need the
language of God Himself, of the God who
formed the immaculate Virgin, the masterpiece
of His omnipotence. The eyes of the majestic Mary appeared thousands of times more beautiful than
the rarest brilliants, diamonds and precious stones. They shone like two suns; they
were soft, softness itself, as clear as a mirror. In her eyes, you could see paradise. They drew
you to Her, She seemed to want to draw and give Herself.

The more I looked, the more I wanted to see; the more I saw, the more I loved Her and I loved
Her with all my might.

The eyes of the beautiful Immaculate One
were like the door to God's Kingdom, from
which you could see all than can elate the soul When my eyes met those of the Mother of God and of
myself, I felt inside me a happy re­
volution of love and a declaration that I love Her and am melting with love. As we looked at each
other, our eyes spoke to each other in their fashion, and I loved Her so much I could have kissed
Her in the middle of Her eyes, which touched my soul and seemed to draw it towards them and make it
melt into Hers. Her eyes set up a sweet trembling in all my being; and I was afraid to make the
slightest movement which might cause her the smallest displeasure.

Just the sight of the eyes of the purest of Virgins would have been enough to make the Heaven of a
blessed creature, enough to fill the