They loved each other, but neither Would venture to speak thereof; They glared at each other like enemies And wanted to die of love. - Heinrich Heine

Onde se queimam livros, acaba-se queimando pessoas

Lo, sleep is good, better is death — in sooth
The best of all were never to be born.

Like a great poet, nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the utmost economy of means: nothing but sun, trees, flowers, water, and love. Of course, if the latter is absent from the beholder’s heart, the whole landscape will be an unpleasing sight; then the sun is merely so many miles in diameter, and the trees provide good firewood, and the flowers are classified according to the number of their stamens, and the water is wet.