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“Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.”
Aşk şaşılacak bir şey, kesinlikle! Zümrütlerden, yakutlardan daha değerli. İncilerle, lalelerle değişilemez, pazara çıkarılamaz. Ne satıcılardan parayla alınabilir, ne de altın terazide tartılır...
"Look!" cried the tree. "The rose is finished now." But the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
— Love is such a nonsense, — the Student thought, returning home. “It doesn’t even have half the utility that Logic has. It proves nothing, always promises the unrealizable, and makes you believe in the impossible. It is surprisingly impractical, and since our age is practical, I would rather return to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.
"The pain became more and more painful, the song of the Nightingale was heard louder and louder, he sang about Love that finds perfection in Death, about that Love that does not die in the grave. And the magnificent rose became scarlet, like the morning dawn in the East. Its rim became scarlet, and its heart became scarlet like a ruby."
hayalet efkarla, "gözyaşlarım yok, o yüzden günahlarım için benimle birlikte ağlamalısın; inancım yok, o yüzden ruhum için benimle birlikte ağlamalısın," dedi.