What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.