The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.

Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands.

It is no easy task to lead men. But it is easy enough to drive them.

for we women are not only the deities of the household fire, but the flame of the soul itself.

These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination.

All that is not given is lost.