“Let everything that’s been planned come true. Let them believe. And let them have a laugh at their passions. Because what they call passion actually is not some emotional energy, but just the friction between their souls and the outside world. And most important, let them believe in themselves. Let them be helpless like children, because weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it’s tender and pliant. But when it’s dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death’s companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.” 

-Andrei Tarkovsky

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers
I ache from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face,
I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume,
I am bound to my vague memory of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound;
if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me,
like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love,
yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
shooting stars and falling objects.

-Neruda