Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.
You must know that I do not love and that I love you, because everything alive has its two sides; a word is one wing of silence,
fire has its cold half. I love you in order to begin to love you,
to start infinity again and never to stop loving you: that’s why I do not love you yet. I love you, and I do not love you, as if I held
keys in my hand: to a future of joy, a wretched, muddled fate. My love has two lives, in order to love you.