' See, we don’t love like flowers,
with only one season behind us;
when we love, a sap older than memory rises in our arms. O girl,
it's like this: inside us we have loved
not just some one to come, but a fermenting tribe ; not just one
child, but fathers, cradled inside us like ruins
of mountains, the dry riverbeds
of those who were mothers, yes, and all that
soundless landscape under its clouded
or clear destiny - girl, all this came before you.'


Rainer Maria Rilke
Duino elegies, the third elegy.

rest in peace , Joe Barbera.