Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together.
Nothing mortal is enduring, and there is nothing sweet which does not presently end in bitterness.
I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.
For though I am a body of this earth, my firm desire is born from the stars.
Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.
Virtue is health, vice is sickness.