Despair and Genius are too oft connected

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

Time strips our illusions of their hue, And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

What's drinking? A mere pause from thinking!

I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.

I loved my country, and I hated him.

I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, . . . that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.