What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little.

But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.

Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?

Nothing so difficult as a beginning In poesy, unless perhaps the end.

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.

No more we meet in yonder bowers Absence has made me prone to roving; But older, firmer hearts than ours, Have found monotony in loving.