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Unlike we are, unlike, O princely Heart! Unlike our uses and our destinies... Thou, bethink thee, art. A guest for queens to social pageantries, With gages from a hundred brighter eyes. Than tears even can make mine... What hast though to do With looking from the lattice-lights at me, A poor, tired, wandering singer...
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I understood that he was my host, though he only glanced at me and walked by, and I did not have the audacity to signal to him in any way. He hurried into the station and came out again minutes later with no expression of hope. At last he saw me and pointed with his index finger: "You're Gabito, right?" I answered him with all my heart: "Almost, now.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez