"I want to tell you something but good taste. Restrains me."

"On mountainous terrain, Eros, with a stroke, Shattered my brain."

"Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done."

"Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables."

"My blood with gentle horrors thrilled: My feeble pulse forgot to play; I fainted, sunk, and died away."