There would be no supporting life were we to feel quite as poignantly for others as we do for ourselves.
Samuel RichardsonAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: english
- Born: August 19, 1689
- Died: July 4, 1761
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Never let me lose the marvelof your statue-like eyes, or the accentthe solitary rose of your breathplaces on my cheek at night.I am afraid of being, on this shore,a branchless trunk, and what I most regretis having no flower, pulp, or clayfor the worm of my despair.If you are my hidden treasure,if you are my cross, my dampened pain,if I am a dog, and you alone my master,never let me lose what I have gained,and adorn the branches of your riverwith leaves of my estranged Autumn.
Federico Garcia Lorca