Who told you that you come into the world to be happy? When in fact happiness is inside the soul that has gained the right to life and light.
Romantic is the incurable dreamer, and who could judge him? The country in which he lives is the dream: all his sins are the ideals of an innocent love, where poetry becomes a work of art, born from the heart of the stellar temples.
I believe that happiness is nothing but a chimera, a state of mind that man cultivates, clinging to the image of the future.
Love does not die of natural death, but of human indifference.