Sleep Hath Its Own World, And The

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

I Came To Realize Clearly That The Mind Is No Other Than The Mountain And The Rivers And The Great Wide Earth, The Sun And The Moon And The Sky”.

Friendship Is Love Without His Wings!

My Great Comfort Is, That The Temporary Celebrity I Have Wrung From The World Has Been In The Very Teeth Of All Opinions And Prejudices. I Have Flattered No Ruling Powers; I Have Never Concealed A Single Thought That Tempted Me.

Think'st Thou Existence Doth Depend On Time? It Doth; But Actions Are Our Epochs.