Love is not a fire to be shut up in a soul. Everything betrays us: voice, silence, eyes; half-covered fires burn all the brighter.
I can hear those glances that you think are silent.
Honor, without money, is a mere malady.
Have there ever been more submissive slaves? Adoring, even in their irons, the God who punishes them.
Innocence has nothing to dread.
When will the veil be lifted that casts so black a night over the universe? God of Israel, lift at last the gloom: For how long will you be hidden?