Be Hypocritical, Be Cautious, Be Not What

In Itself A Thought, A Slumbering Thought Is Capable Of Years; And Curdles A Long Life Into One Hour.

The Great Art Of Life Is Sensation, To Feel That We Exist, Even In Pain.

O Fame! If I Ever Took Delight In Thy Praises, Twas Less For The Sake Of Thy High-sounding Phrases, Than To See The Bright Eyes Of The Dear One Discover The Thought That I Was Not Unworthy To Love Her.

Italia! O Italia! Thou Who Hast The Fatal Gift Of Beauty.

Grief Is Fantastical, And Loves The Dead, And The Apparel Of The Grave.