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“... Who knows what death, anxiety of the living, Who knows what loneliness, end of the loving I could say to myself of the love (I had): Let it not be immortal, since it is flame But let it be infinite while it lasts.” — Vinicius de Moraes
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Who knows what death, anxiety of the living,
Who knows what loneliness, end of the loving
I could say to myself of the love (I had):
Let it not be immortal, since it is flame
But let it be infinite while it lasts.