The Dower Of Great Beauty Has Always

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.

Speak No Evil Of Women; I Tell Thee The Meanest Of Them Deserves Respect; For Of Women Do We Not All Come?

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.

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.

The Heart Is An Astrologer That Always Divines The Truth.