Lovers who love truly do not write down their happiness.
Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers and laid entwined together on a bed of clover and left there to sleep, left there to dream of their happiness.
Happiness, laughter and joy abound, when friends, family, and lovers are around.
Now they are lovers. The first, wild courses are ended. They have founded their domain. A satanic happiness follows.
There is, in lovers, a certain infatuation of egotism; they will have a witness of their happiness, cost that witness what it may.
If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.
What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?