There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness in the day of sorrow.

Look at the sun! It’s dry, it’s dead, it needs a drink, it wants blood! And I’ll give it blood!

The only truth is love beyond reason.

Each memorable verse of a true poet has two or three times the written content.

[I]f you are truly a man, sure of yourself and confident of your strength, you may taste of life without fear and without reserve; you may be sad or joyous, deceived or respected; but be sure you are loved, for what matters the rest?

What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked; very witty or very stupid, but something.

How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception.