And in his eyes<br>The cold stars lighting$$$ very old and bleak$$$<br>In different skies.

All that remained of Daphne was her shining loveliness.

Not knowing what he sees$$$ he adores the sight;<br>That false face fools and fuels his delight.

Medicine sometimes snatches away health$$$ sometimes gives it.

There is a certain pleasure in weeping.

In this place I am a barbarian$$$ because men do not understand me.

I flee who chases me and chase who flees me.

I mean that you always know what results will come from one or another of your actions; but in a strange way you want to do one thing and get the result that could only come from another.

Leaving sex to the feminists is like letting your dog vacation at the taxidermist.

There is no possibility of remembering what has been found and understood$$$ and later repeating it to oneself. It disappears as a dream disappears. Perhaps it is all nothing but a dream.