My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
Wine is only sweet to happy men.
Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.