in Italy, almost at every step, history and poetry add to the graces of nature, sweeten the memory of the past, and seem to preserve it in eternal youth.
Between God and love, I recognize no mediator but my conscience.
We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love
there is not enough interest in life to spread over twenty-four hours when one can't sleep.
Politeness is the art of choosing among your thoughts.
Conscience is doubtless sufficient to conduct the coldest character into the road of virtue; but enthusiasm is to conscience what honor is to duty; there is in us a superfluity of soul, which it is sweet to consecrate to the beautiful when the good has been accomplished.