The fire of love and the cold of time, deprive my sweet love of his peace of mind.
There is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy.
Profits on the exchange are the treasures of goblins.
All right, then, I'll say it: Dante makes me sick.
But life is short: while one lives, everything is lacking; when one is dead, everything is superfluous.
Dreaming of a tomorrow, which tomorrow, will be as distant then as 'tis today.