Love is an intermediate state between possession and deprivation.
But of the heaven which is above the heavens, what earthly poet ever did or ever will sing worthily?
No one is so cowardly that Love could not inspire him to heroism.
. . . Then anyone who leaves behind him a written manual, and likewise anyone who receives it, in the belief that such writing will be clear and certain, must be exceedingly simple-minded. . . .
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.
And isn't it a bad thing to be deceived about the truth, and a good thing to know what the truth is? For I assume that by knowing the truth you mean knowing things as they really are.