Forgive me if you are not living. If you, beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall on my breast. It will rain on my soul all night, all day. My feet will want to march to where you are sleeping. But I shall go on living.
R.I.P. Alan Rickman (21st February 1946 - 14th January 2016)
Words cannot begin to describe how much you will be missed.
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