“Ignorance can be cured, but stupidity is forever.”

Have you ever, looking up, seen a cloud like to a Centaur, a Part, or a Wolf, or a Bull?

It is bad taste for a poet to be coarse and hairy.

You vote yourselves salaries out of the public funds and care only for your own personal interests; hence the state limps along.

These impossible women! How they do get around us! The poet was right: can’t live with them, or without them!

Hunger knows no friend but its feeder.

The gods, my dear simple fellow, are a mere expression coined by vulgar superstition. We frown upon such coinage here.

There is no beast, no rush of fire, like woman so untamed. She calmly goes her way where even panthers would be shamed.

By words the mind is winged.

Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.

Tis not for us to warn a wilful sinner; We stay him not, but let him run his course, Till by misfortunes rous’d, his conscience wakes, And prompts him to appease th’ offended gods.

Evil events from evil causes spring.

I saw a cavalry captain buy vegetable soup on horseback. He carried the whole mess home in his helmet.

Words give wings to the mind and make a man soar to heaven.

I would treat her like an egg, the shell of which we remove before eating it; I would take off her mask and then kiss her pretty face.

An insult directed at the wicked is not to be censured; on the contrary, the honest man, if he has sense, can only applaud.

Love is merely the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.

Soon is the struggle past, and to the earth, To the eternal sun, I render back These atoms, joined in me for pain and pleasure.

Arrow-swift the present sweepeth, and motionless forever stands the past.

Eternity gives nothing back of what one leaves out of the minutes.

O that it might remain eternally green, The beautiful time of youthful love.

Be young forever, seasons of the earth.

Love to the fullest. Either you’ll live for eternity or die as a poet.

I’m a poet, a sad poet, who wrote about her, always and forever.

True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure.