The vows that woman makes to her fond lover are only fit to be written on air or on the swiftly passing stream.
Stop wishing to merit anyone's gratitude or thinking that anyone can become grateful.
Oh, this age! How tasteless and ill bred it is!
But you shall not escape my iambics.
Brother, hello and good-bye. Frater, ave atque vale
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.