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.
In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender
On the sun's revolving splendour.
When love is not madness, it is not love.
For man's greatest crime is to have been born.
Speak no evil of women; I tell thee the meanest of them deserves respect; for of women do we not all come?
Restless sunflower; cease to move.
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.
For even in dreams a good deed is not lost.
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.
Even in dreams doing good is not wasted.
A woman needs a stronger head than her own for counsel--she should marry.
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.
The heart is an astrologer that always divines the truth.
How surely a knowledge of the world hardens the heart!
One may know how to gain a victory, and know not how to use it.
All life is a dream, and all dreams are dreams.
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.
Our treasures trifles seem, and all our life is dreaming, and the dreams themselves are dreams.
If a pretty woman only knew how anger improved her beauty! Her complexion needs no other paint than indignation.
Tis not where we lie but whence we fell; the loss of Heaven's the greatest pain in Hell.
At the point when affection is not frenzy, it is not adore.
The fox is very cunning, but he is more cunning who catches the fox.
The dower of great beauty has always been misfortune, since happiness and beauty do not agree together.
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