“If truth in hearts that perishCould move the powers on high,I think the love I bear youShould make you not to die.Sure, sure, if steadfast meaning,If single thought could save,The world might end to-morrow,You should not see the grave.This long and sure-set liking,This boundless will to please,-Oh, you should live for everIf there were help in these.But now, since all is idle,To this lost heart be kind,Ere to a town you journey Where friends are ill to find.”

“There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without hoping to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“Could you help me catch the moon?”“I might be able to give you some advice,” the old man said reluctantly. “But first you should think this over, boy. When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you’ll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.”

“Since I was a very small boy, traveling from town to town, three hundred days a year, I learned to love this life. The cradlelike rock and sway of the train, the hospitality of our countrymen, the gentle hearts of our countrywomen. You will find that, as long as you keep moving, there is no end to the delights awaiting you. But you must keep moving, Feliu. Even when the heart skips; even when the view blurs.”

“When you are sixteen you do not know what your parents know, or much of what they understand, and less of what's in their hearts. This can save you from becoming an adult too early, save your life from becoming only theirs lived over again--which is a loss. But to shield yourself--as I didn't do--seems to be an even greater error, since what's lost is the truth of your parents' life and what you should think about it, and beyond that, how you should estimate the world you are about to live in.”

“Where will I find you now that my heart is yours?Where should I search? I don’t know where to look.You fill my heart with desire and love,The perfume of the lotus, the grace of a dove.But then the dove flies far, far away,All that is left is a song for my harp strings to play.A voice in my memories like an angel of grace,Where can I find you? Do you know how I pray?Where will I find you now that my love belongs to you?Wherever your heart beats, I’m dreaming of you.Now and forever my love belongs to you…Now and forever my love belongs to you…”