Our treasures trifles seem, and all our life is dreaming, and the dreams themselves are dreams.

In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

At the point when affection is not frenzy, it is not adore.

How surely a knowledge of the world hardens the heart!

The heart is an astrologer that always divines the truth.

A friar who asks alms for God's sake begs for two.