You have yet to learn that Prosperity, Pleasure and Success may be rough of grain and common in fibre, but that Sorrow is the most sensitive of all created things. There is nothing that stirs in the whole world of thought or motion to which Sorrow does not vibrate in terrible if exquisite pulsation… It is a wound that bleeds when any hand but that of Love touches it and even then must bleed again, though not for pain.

— Oscar Wilde, De Profundis