When love is not madness it is not love.
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.
One may know how to gain a victory and know not how to use it.
Green is the prime color of the world and that from which its loveliness arises.
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.
For all life is a dream and dreams themselves are only dreams.
For even in dreams a good deed is not lost.
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.