That feeling of love for language, magnificently portrayed by Bilac in one of his immortal sonnets, is something that seems indispensable in any authentic culture, and any culture that intends to survive. Perhaps this is precisely the distinctive unifying element lacking in some of Europe’s essentially cosmopolitan countries, which sometimes seem to sociologists, if not amorphous, more like an extension of any neighboring country. On an individual level, that feeling seems even more important, and if language could speak, it would be very good if it determined, in order to avoid a countless number of nonsense: “If you don’t love me, please leave me alone”.