Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me...
… when one is in love one has no love left for anyone…– Marcel Proust, Du côté de chez Swann
I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me...– e.e. cummings