Passion sits on the skull Of Humanity, And this infidel enthroned Laughs shamelessly, And gaily blows round bubbles That will fly, As if to join with worlds Deep in the sky. Rising on high, the frail Luminous globe, Shatters and bursts its slim soul Like a dream of gold. I hear at each bubble, the skull Moan and contend: 'This vicious, ridiculous game, When will it end? What you are blowing away Again and again, You murderous fiend, is my body My blood and my brain!

The saddest thing is that every love has an unhappy ending, and all the more unhappy in proportion to how divinely it began, with what wings it first took flight.

The mainspring of genius is curiosity.

Unable to do away with love, the Church found a way to decontaminate it by creating marriage.

Beware of all the paradoxical in love. It is simplicity which saves, it is simplicity which brings happiness...Love should be love.

The lover of life makes the whole world into his family, just as the lover of the fair sex creates his from all the lovely women he has found, from those that could be found, and those who are impossible to find.

I love the clouds... the clouds that pass by... over there... over there... those lovely clouds!