Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost.
Khalil GibranThe brooks flow to their lover, the sea, and the flowers smile at the object of their passion, the light. The mist rolls down to its beloved, the valley. And I? In me is what brooks do not know, what flowers do not hear, what the mist does not apprehend. You see me alone in my love, solitary in my yearning.
Khalil Gibran