“We shall perishalong the path of Love.Fate will trample us. Yeah, temptingyoung woman, get up and give me your lipsbefore I return to dust.”

“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,Before we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lieSans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!Alike for those who for To-day prepare,And those that after some To-morrow stare,A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.”

“O friend, for the morrow let us not worryThis moment we have now, let us not hurryWhen our time comes, we shall not tarryWith seven thousand-year-olds, our burden carry”

“When your soul and minehave left our bodies and we areburried alongside each other,a Potter may one day mouldthe dust of both of usinto the same clay.”

“There was a water-drop, it joined the sea,A speck of dust, it was fused with earth;what of your entering and leaving this world?A fly appeared, and disappeared.”

“Shall I still sigh for what I have not got, Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot? Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath I now am drawing is my last, or not!”

“You say some Greek philosophers could dazzle their audienceswith their riddles? That does not interest me at all. Bringmore wine instead and play your lute; your changes in tonesremind me of the wind that rushes past and disappears,just like us.”