Whenever books are burned men also in the end are burned.

Sweet May hath come to love us, flowers, trees, their blossoms don't and through the blue heavens above us the very clouds move on.

Here's to matrimony, the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.

The beauteous dragonfly's dancing by the waves of the rivulet glancing. She dances here and she dances there, the glimmering, glittering fluttered fair. Full many a beetle with loud applause admires her dress of azure gauze, admires her body's bright splendor, and also her figure so slender.

Sweet May hath come to love us, / Flowers, trees, their blossoms don; / And through the blue heavens above us / The very clouds move on.

With the rose the butterfly's deep in love, A thousand times hovering round; But round himself, all tender like gold, The sun's sweet ray is hovering found...

Communism possesses a language which every people can understand its elements are hunger, envy, and death.

In the marvellous month of May when all the buds were bursting, then in my heart did love arise. In the marvellous month of May when all the birds were singing, then did I reveal to her my yearning and longing.

With the rose the butterfly's deep in love, A thousand times hovering round; But round himself, all tender like gold, The sun's sweet ray is hovering found.

The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel -- and all of them are right.