I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

To the very last, he [Napoleon] had a kind of idea; that, namely, of la carrière ouverte aux talents, - the tools to him that can handle them.

Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.

How astonishingly does the chance of leaving the world improve a sense of its natural beauties upon us. Like poor Falstaff, although I do not 'babble,' I think of green fields; I muse with the greatest affection on every flower I have know from my infancy - their shapes and colours are as new to me as if I had just created them with superhuman fancy.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering?