There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
A woman who gives any advantage to a man may expect a lover – but will sooner or later find a tyrant.
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
You should have a softer pillow than my heart.
Pythagoras, Locke, Socrates – but pages might be filled up, as vainly as before, with the sad usage of all sorts of sages, who in his life-time, each was deemed a bore! The loftiest minds outrun their tardy ages.
Sweet is revenge-especially to women.
The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn’d, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!
For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
I see before me the gladiator lie.
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!
Fills The air around with beauty.
Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.
Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
What’s drinking? A mere pause from thinking!
Talent may be in time forgiven, but genius never.
The music, and the banquet, and the wine – The garlands, the rose odors, and the flowers, The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments – The white arms and the raven hair – the braids, And bracelets; swan-like bosoms, and the necklace, An India in itself, yet dazzling not.