The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!

I cannot describe to you the despairing sensation of trying to do something for a man who seems incapable or unwilling to do anything further for himself.

There are four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.

Hatred is the madness of the heart.

Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, there is no sterner moralist than pleasure.

This is the age of oddities let loose.

Though the day of my Destiny 's over, And the star of my Fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find.