He Makes A Solitude, And Calls It

Shakespeare's Name, You May Depend On It, Stands Absurdly Too High And Will Go Down.

Had Sigh'd To Many, Though He Loved But One.

As Long As I Retain My Feeling And My Passion For Nature, I Can Partly Soften Or Subdue My Other Passions And Resist Or Endure Those Of Others.

It Is The Lava Of The Imagination Whose Eruption Prevents An Earthquake.

Italia! O Italia! Thou Who Hast The Fatal Gift Of Beauty.