His Fine Wit Makes Such A Wound,

Death Is The Veil Which Those Who Live Call Life; They Sleep, And It Is Lifted.

Sometimes It's Better To Put Love Into Hugs Than To Put It Into Words. Soul Meets Soul On Lovers' Lips.

I Love Tranquil Solitude.

O, Wind, If Winter Comes, Can Spring Be Far Behind?

Oh Lift Me As A Wave, A Leaf, A Cloud! I Fall Upon The Thorns Of Life! I Bleed!