Who shows a child, just as they are? Who sets ITIN its constellation, and gives the measure of distance into its hand? Who makes a child’s death out of gray bread, that hardens, - or leaves it inside its round mouth like the core of a shining apple? Killers areas to grasp. But this: death, the whole of death, before life, to hold it so softly, and not live in anger, cannot be expressed.

Duino Elegies