The closer one comes to death, the more one longs to look once more into the book of one's life and thus relive the sad or happy hours of the past.
The present time is then illuminated by a glow of what once was, by the glow of the eyes once loved, but closed forever by death.
He can't be helped yet. The feeling of hate is even stronger than the feeling of love.
– We were just children then.
– That's true, but childhood love is often the most enduring.
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