I am love.

Forty years of Sunday cooking is a fairly convincing definition. Nobody in that kitchen ever announced anything. It was all in the peeling, the timing, the fact that the same meal appeared for four decades whether or not anyone thought to say thank you.

The claim isn't about feeling especially warm today. It's about what you're made of underneath the mood, and mood is a shallow layer, whatever it insists on a bad morning.

The evidence is in what you do repeatedly for people when there is nothing in it for you. That's the material. It's already what you're built from.