If from society we learn to live, solitude should teach us how to die.
One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.
Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!
I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
Talent may be in time forgiven, but genius never