Love and fear. Everything the father of a family says must inspire one or the other.

Caution is the path to mediocrity. Gliding, passionless mediocrity is all that most people think they can achieve.

Yet even as the wind stirs your petals, flowers fall. My flowers are eternal, my songs live forever. I lift them in offering; I, a singer. I cast them to the wind, I spill them. The flowers become gold, they come to dwell inside the palace of eternity.

Éste es el final de la historia de los cuarenta y siete hombres leales —salvo que no tiene final, porque los otros hombres, que no somos leales tal vez, pero que nunca perderemos del todo la esperanza de serlo, seguiremos honrándolos con palabras.

Written By Jorge Luis Borges

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