There is no pleasure without a tincture of bitterness.

On the holy boughs of the Celestial Tree High up in the heavenly fields, Beyond terrestrial desire My soul-bird a warm nest has built.

When all your desires are distilled; You will cast just two votes: To love more, And be happy.

You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.

Laugh because that is the purest sound.

Dear Ones, Beware of the tiny gods frightened men Create To bring anesthetic relief to their sad days

One regret dear world, that I am determined not to have when I am lying on my deathbed is that I did not kiss you enough.