Como las paga el vulgo, es justo hablarle en necio para darle gusto. - Lope de Vega

Lone I muse but feel not lonely,
Covert solitude’s my lore;
For my company I only
Want my thoughts and nothing more.

But life is short: while one lives, everything is lacking; when one is dead, everything is superfluous.

To turn your face from clear proofs of deceit,
To drink poison as if it were a soothing liquor,
To disregard gain and delight in being injured.
To believe that heaven can lie contained in hell;
To devote your life and soul to being disillusioned;
This is love; whoever has tasted it, knows.