The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day; While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.

Human misery is too great for men to die without faith.

Thought precedes action as lighting does thunder.

Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.

Silence is the essential condition of happiness.

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.

Woman is at once apple and serpent.