We are the buffoons of our children.
Why should the eyes be denied what delights them most?
Even when I'm railed at, I get my quota of renown.
Perfumed and gallant words make our ears belch.
Desire is poison at lunch and wormwood at dinner; your bed is a stone, friendship is hateful and your fancy is always fixed on one thing.
I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.