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.

Faded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.

The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.

All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.

Wine is only sweet to happy men.

Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .