Our common liberty is consecrated by a common sorrow.
Good taste consists first upon fitness.
The new year begins in a snow-storm of white vows.
The test of civilization is the estimate of woman.
Heroes in history seem to us poetic because they are there. But if we should tell the simple truth of some of our neighbors, it would sound like poetry.
In the journey of the year, the autumn is Venice, spring is Naples, certainly, and the majestic maturity of summer is Rome.