I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.
My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
In commitment, we dash the hopes of a thousand potential selves.
There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.
Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.