There will grow from straws a mighty heap.
Love is a kind of military service
I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth.
He, who is not prepared today, will be less so tomorrow.
Let the man who does not wish to be idle, fall in love.
Wherever I look there is nothing but the image of death.