Proclaim your pride and bitterness loudly to the world, but to me speak softly, and tell me simply that she doesn’t love you.
I-I am going to be a storm-a flame- I need to fight whole armies alone; I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms; I feel too strong to war with mortals- BRING ME GIANTS!
I would die at the stake rather than change a semi-colon!
A pessimist is a man who tells the truth prematurely.
I sing, not to hear the echo repeat, a shade fainter, my song! I think of light and not of glory! Singing is my fashion of waging war and bearing witness. And if my song is the proudest of songs, it is that I sing clearly to make the day rise clear!
Your name hangs in my heart like a bell’s tongue.
Take it, and turn to facts my fantasies.
No, In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says ‘I love you!’ all his ugliness fades fast But I remain the same, up to the last!
I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love!
Your neck. I want to kiss it.
A man does not fight to win; it is better to fight in vain...
After all, what is a kiss? A vow made at closer range, a more precise promise, a confession that contains its own proof, a seal placed on a pact that has already been signed; it’s a secret told to the mouth rather than to the ear.
A kiss, when all is said, what is it? An oath that’s given closer than before; A promise more precise; the sealing of Confessions that till then were barely breathed; A rosy dot placed on the i in loving.
You must believe me when I believe, and not when I doubt.
My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
A kiss, when all is said, what is it? A rosy dot placed on the ‘I’ in loving; Tis a secret told to the mouth instead of to the ear.
My wit is more polished than your mustache. The truth which I speak strikes more sparks from men’s hearts than your spurs do from the cobblestones.
I am what I am because early in life I decided that I would please at least myself in all things.
To joke in the face of danger is the supreme politeness, a delicate refusal to cast oneself as a tragic hero.
A kiss is a rosy dot placed on the “i” in loving.