Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.

Oh, they loved dearly: their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss.

The real madness probably is not another thing that the wisdom itself that, tired of discovering the shames of the world, has taken the intelligent resolution to become mad

My heart resembles the ocean; has storm, and ebb and flow; and many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below.

Matrimony; the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.

This was but a prelude; where books are burnt human-beings will be burnt in the end

Wherever they burn books they will also, in the end, burn human beings.