Madness, like a human's mark,
It claims that everything is fine,
It plays, as for it, God has changed,
Faith is either exalted or diminished.
Signs are everywhere,
It has become the center of the universe,
It has absorbed every book,
This treacherous ailment
Has added uncontrollable power.
It plays with colorful thoughts.

We die when we are no longer respected; at that moment, we simply wither like a flower left without water.

If we are bothered by someone else's smell, imagine how uncomfortable they must feel, not being able to get rid of it themselves.

If three idiots gather and start talking about politics, we'll soon see a political party!

Food is a pleasure if the flavor is like the ingredients.

It’s still warm in Texas, the tropical humid zones have hot weather, and it's cold where I am.
I wish it were even colder.
I think about those people who don’t like the heat
how do they endure in eternally scorching countries.
I’d probably emigrate if I didn’t have four beautiful seasons.

Today, I’m happy because everything is fine. Nothing can spoil my mood. These periods often scare me, though
I always feel like I'm waiting for something bad to happen.

I’m doing nothing, just listening to Christophe’s Les Paradis Perdus, and peace has settled in my heart.

The wind stirs my black curtain.
I hear the sound of branches,
The wind sweeps the dry grass on the fields,
Like waves on the sea.
Cold hearts,
Like the black curtain.
If you go to heaven without me,
Or even to hell,
My heart will fall asleep.
Love is as dark
As a moonless night
In an impenetrable forest.
Bats must long for such nights.
The black curtain rustles—
The night is not so long for me.
I am like a fallen angel
Whose paradise is taken away,
Yet Cupid strikes me
With an arrow of love.
The black curtain rustles,
For me, the nights aren’t so long.