Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep From leaf to leaf.
O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
Good but rarely came from good advice.
Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
My altars are the mountains and the ocean.