I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.

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.

Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.

You are always new to me.

Is there another Life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.