I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.

Anything cracked will shatter at a touch.

Let the man who does not wish to be idle, fall in love.

Twice does he live who can enjoy the remembrance of the past.

Love is a credulous thing.

Nothing is swifter than our years.

He whom all hate all wish to see destroyed.