Without love, the world itself would not survive.
The fire of love and the cold of time, deprive my sweet love of his peace of mind.
All right, then, I'll say it: Dante makes me sick.
Harmony is pure love, for love is a concerto.
Dreaming of a tomorrow, which tomorrow, will be as distant then as 'tis today.
With a few flowers in my garden, half a dozen pictures and some books, I live without envy.