It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast, Or sorrow such a changeling be?