Venice Once Was Dear, The Pleasant Place

They Used To Say That Knowledge Is Power. I Used To Think So, But I Know Now They Mean Money.

I Cannot Help Thinking That The Menace Of Hell Makes As Many Devils As The Severe Penal Codes Of Inhuman Humanity Make Villains.

Why Do They Call Me Misanthrope? Because They Hate Me, Not I Them.

She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night Of Cloudless Climes And Starry Skies; And All That's Best Of Dark And Bright Meet In Her Aspect And Her Eyes.

The Bright Sun Was Extinguish'd, And The Stars Did Wander Darkling In The Eternal Space.