When Life Itself Seems Lunatic, Who Knows

I Know What's What, And Have Always Taken Care Of The Main Chance.

Oh Senor" Said The Niece. "your Grace Should Send Them To Be Burned (books), Just Like All The Rest, Because It's Very Likely That My Dear Uncle, Having Been Cured Of The Chivalric Disease, Will Read These And Want To Become A Shepherd And Wander Through The Woods And Meadows Singing And Playing And, What Would Be Even Worse, Become A Poet, And That, They Say, Is An Incurable And Contagious Disease.

Everything Disturbs An Absent Lover.

All I Know Is That So Long I Am Asleep I Am Rid Of All Fears And Hopes And Toils And Glory, And Long Live The Man Who Invented Sleep, The Cloak That Covers All Human Thirst.

There Is Nothing Costs Less Than Civility.