There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell. But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?

Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.

There is no instinct like that of the heart.

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.

Retirement accords with the tone of my mind; I will not descend to a world I despise.

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.