Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.
Whatever one loves most is beautiful.
Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.
Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.
Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery
He who is fair to look upon is good, and he who is good will soon be fair also.