Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoever I go.
The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
A single star is rising in the east, and from afar sheds a most tremulous lustre; silent Night doth wear it like a jewel on her brow.
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
Death is the tyrant of the imagination.