Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.
A sweetheart is a bottle of wine, a wife is a wine bottle.
Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue.
Love is the natural occupation of the man of leisure.
In putting off what one has to do, one runs the risk of never being able to do it.
Common sense tells us that the things of the earth exist only a little, and that true reality is only in dreams.