"What does it matter to die of love if the language of emotions of "Spring Waltz" kills me! When he holds my hand, with his overwhelming and mad passion he fills my soul with joy, unbearably with love, while death despises me for being happy and not fearing his darkness. My chest sighs with more strength than ever, my eyes shed tears of happiness and an enraged voice from the bowels cries out to me: "You must live to hear my sonata, dedicated to you" and when I open my eyes there is the maestro with a delicate smile playing for me".-EmilyBustin
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