Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.

I hide my distress, just likethe blessed birds hide themselveswhen they are preparing to die. Wine! Wine, roses, music and yourindifference to my sadness, my loved-one!

By Fate full many a heart has been undone, And many a sprightly rose made woe-begone; Plume thee not on thy lusty youth and strength: Full many a bud is blasted ere its bloom.

This clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine,Surely such clay is more than half divine--'Tis only fools speak evil of the clay,The very stars are made of clay like mine.

Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.

He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.

Drink! for you know not when you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.