Silvia says you can live without love, without tenderness, but the heart is like turning on a dry stump attached to the breast.
says that those who live well, begging darkness, sadness in his eyes are in tempests, in the words carry grudges with both hands, bring on back pain and more pain and more pain.
Silvia says that living without opening the heart to tenderness, marked by a ghostly wandering cold and lonely existence where every beat, every stroke is the worst of the gallows.
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