“What shall I do, today? Visit the pub?Sit down in a garden with a book? A birdflies past. Where is it headed? It's out ofsight already. The drunkenness of a bird in theburning azure. The melancholy of a manin the cool shadow of a mosque.”

“I sometimes think that never blows so redThe Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;That every Hyacinth the Garden wearsDropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.”

“I see a horseman disappearing intothe evening mist. Will he travel through woodsor across wild plains? Where is he heading? I don't know.Tomorrow, will I be stretched out above orbelow the earth? I don't know.”

“When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.”

“So I be written in the Book of Love. I do not care about that Book Above. Erase my name, or write it as you will. So I be written in the Book of Love.”

“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!”

“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”