I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees.
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
I found Him in the shining of the stars.
Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
The world which credits what is done is cold to all that might have been.
All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.