Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years; and curdles a long life into one hour.

It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flatter; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship

I learned to love despair.

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.