He who would not be idle, let him fall in love.
Bear and endure: This sorrow will one day prove to be for your good.
Lente, lente currite, noctis equi. Translation: Run slowly, slowly, horses of the night.
We are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us.
I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.
The prayers of cowards fortune spurns.