“When the young womanleans over the sky,about to water the flowers as well as the weeds,her white front splits openuntil her milk runs.”

“She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her...”

“He just wanted to stand close to her, touch her hair that was white as glacier milk...”

“ The well of your soul will not experience the drought until in front of her will appear the moment of eternity to drink from the water of death.”

“There is too much singing and dancing, such lightness as loosens the restraints of virtue,' she complained, her white curls quivering. 'When I was young we held to the courtly ways, but nowadays the world is running all to ruin.”

“Let her tell stories and dance in the rain, somersault, tumble and run, her joys must be high as her sorrows are deep, let her grow like a weed in the sun.”