Sappho — "Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables."
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
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More from Sappho
"Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl."
"My tongue is broken, a subtle fire runs beneath my skin, my eyes see nothing, my ears hum, cold sweat pours down me, a trembling seizes all my body, and I am greener than grass."
"When anger spreads through the breath, guard thy tongue from barking idly."
"I have no complaint... prosperity that the golden Muses gave me was no delusion: dead, I won't be forgotten."
"Death must be an evil and the gods agree; for why else would they live for ever?"
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