There is no lighter burden, nor more agreeable, than a pen.
I saw the tracks of angels in the earth: the beauty of heaven walking by itself on the world.
I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself.
I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.
How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.
Where you are is of no moment, but only what you are doing there. It is not the place that ennobles you, but you the place, and this only by doing that which is great and noble.