Those who begin by burning books will end by burning people.

The sun's sweet ray is hovering discovered.

Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.

The dragon-fly is dancing, - Is on the water glancing, She flits about with nimble wing, The flickering, fluttering, restless thing. Besotted chafers all admire Her light-blue, gauze-like, neat attire; They laud her blue complexion, And think her shape perfection.

I do not know if she was virtuous, but she was ugly, and with a woman that is half the battle.

In the marvelous month of May when all the buds were bursting, then in my heart did love arise. In the marvelous month of May when all the birds were singing, then did I reveal to her my yearning and longing.

All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it.