Sappho — "Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables."
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
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"On mountainous terrain, Eros, with a stroke, Shattered my brain."
"I can't stand being the old one any longer, Living with you."
"I have no complaint... prosperity that the golden Muses gave me was no delusion: dead, I won't be forgotten."
"I am weary of all your words and soft, strange ways."
"I would not think to touch the sky with two arms."
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