The world is fleeting; all things pass away; Or is it we that pass and they that stay?
The lips are closed, for the dancer has plenty of other voices at his service.
Avarice is a cursed vice: offer a man enough gold, and he will part with his own small hoard of food, however great his hunger.
Now that I know what I want, I don't have to hold on to it quite so much.
The wealth of the soul is the only true wealth.
The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.