But I had not quite fixed whether to make him [Don Juan] end in Hell-or in an unhappy marriage,-not knowing which would be the severest.
I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
Fills The air around with beauty.