Strange, weird things that no man may say, things Humanity hides away; secretly done, catch the light of the living day.

Often devotion to virtue arises from sated desire.

Or, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains, holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell.

I cannot forget that, just as my life was touching its fullest flower, love came and destroyed it all in a single hour.

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar, / Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?

Why is love such a sorrowful thing, this I never could understand; passion and pain are linked together, ever I find them hand in hand.