There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.

Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!

What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation -- they are all better than us and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!

Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth; but actions are our epochs.