Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.
What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.
Restless sunflower; cease to move.
When love is not madness, it is not love.
In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it
Even in dreams doing good is not wasted.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender
On the sun's revolving splendour.
The heart is an astrologer that always divines the truth.
No windows give a better view than those a man brings with him in his head, not asking for tickets of admission, since at all functions, festivals, or feasts he looks out with the same nice self-composure.
Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul Yet uncorrected of the higher will, So that men sometimes in their dreams confess An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; -Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin In missing each that salutory rein Of reason, and the grinding will of man.
For man's greatest crime is to have been born.
At the point when affection is not frenzy, it is not adore.
How surely a knowledge of the world hardens the heart!
For even in dreams a good deed is not lost.
One may know how to gain a victory, and know not how to use it.
But whether it be dream or truth, to do well is what matters. If it be truth, for truth's sake. If not, then to gain friends for the time when we awaken.
These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.
The dower of great beauty has always been misfortune, since happiness and beauty do not agree together.
To the King, one must give his possessions and his life; but honour is a possession of soul, and the soul is only God's.
All must yield to the weight of years; conquest is not difficult for time.
A good action is never lost; it is a treasure laid up and guarded for the doer's need.
Never confide your secrets to paper; it is like throwing a stone in the air; and if you know who throws the stone, you do not know where it may fall.
A friar who asks alms for God's sake begs for two.
Grief has been compared to a hydra; for every one that dies, two are born.
Great events have sent before them their announcements.
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