I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare.

Because our lives are cowardly and sly, Because we do not dare to take or give, Because we scowl and pass each other by, We do not live; we do not dare to live.

Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is his past, and is to be known by it.

Let the past be content with itself, for man needs forgetfulness as well as memory

I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare.

A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.

We get wise by asking questions, and even if these are not answered we get wise, for a well-packed question carries its answer on its back as a snail carries its shell.