When love is not madness, it is not love.

What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.

For all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.

For even in dreams a good deed is not lost.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

What law, what reason can deny that gift so sweet, so natural that God has given a stream, a fish, a beast, a bird?