I would have preferred to have been born in any other time than our own.

I rejoiced in my progress, mourned my weaknesses, and commiserated the universal instability of human conduct.

Hope is incredible to the slave of grief.

Who naught suspects is easily deceived.

Virtue is health, vice is sickness.

To be able to say how much love, is love but little.

And tears are heard within the harp I touch.