I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.

A chaplet of leaves crowns the victor.

O you who have borne even heavier things, to these too, God will grant an end!

Go forth a conqueror and win great victories.

Let not our proposal be disregarded on the score of our youth.

There's a snake lurking in the grass.

Even virtue is fairer in a fair body.