That low vice, curiosity!

Of all tales 'tis the saddest--and more sad, Because it makes us smile.

Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!

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

Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

Think not I am what I appear.