It is not the shilling I give you that counts, but the warmth that it carries with it from my hand.
Miguel de UnamunoFor it is the suffering flesh, it is suffering, it is death, that lovers perpetuate upon the earth. Love is at once the brother, son, and father of death, which is its sister, mother, and daughter. And thus it is that in the depth of love there is a depth
Miguel de UnamunoOur life is a hope which is continually converting itself into memory and memory in its turn begets hope.
Miguel de Unamuno