My mind's sunk so low, Claudia, because of you, wrecked itself on your account so bad already, that I couldn't like you if you were the best of women, -or stop loving you, no matter what you do.

I write of youth, of love, and have access by these to sing of cleanly wantonness.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

Away with you, water, destruction of wine!

Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all.

What a woman says to an eager lover, write it on running water, write it on air.

What women say to lovers, you'll agree, One writes on running water or on air.