There are four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love.

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When people say, "I've told you fifty times," They mean to scold, and very often do; When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes," They make you dread that they'll recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; At fifty love for love is rare, 't is true, but then, no doubt, it equally as true is, a good deal may be bought for fifty Louis.

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Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

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There is music in all things, if men had ears.

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Friendship is Love without his wings!

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Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

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Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.

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They never fail who die in a great cause.

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Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

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Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;... Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties - give me a cigar!

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