Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them.

I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand; I saw from out the wave of her structure's rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble pines, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.

What want these outlaws conquerors should have but history's purchased page to call them great?

Oh Rome! My country! City of the soul!

If from society we learn to live, solitude should teach us how to die.

They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.