What in us the women leave uncultivated, children cultivate when we retain them near us.

Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom, Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose!

One would give generous alms if one had the eyes to see the beauty of a cupped receiving hand.

I will be lord over myself.

Our mistakes and failures are always the first to strike us, and outweigh in our imagination what we have accomplished and attained.

There is no patriotic art.

Just as, out of habit, one consults a run-down clock as though it were still going, so too one may look at the face of a beautiful woman as though he still loved her.