When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once.

and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

Places remember events.

My puns are not trivial. They are quadrivial

I confess that I do not see what good it does to fulminate against the English tyranny while the Roman tyranny occupies the palace of the soul.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.