For the reader, nothing compares to those moments when the lines he reads seem to come from within himself. Of the many sensations that literature can produce, this is perhaps the most special, since, inside or outside literature, moments of such identification are rare. And if, in life, it produces true friendships, in literature it gives rise to a similar bond. From then on, those lines will be shared among the most cherished, the author will be among the favorites, even if, to others, he seems inferior. It is a pity that, usually dead, the author will not be able to enjoy it; but if he were given the choice, there is no doubt that he would trade a sea of readers for a single connection like this.