This Is To Be Along; This, This

Switzerland Is A Curst, Selfish, Swinish Country Of Brutes, Placed In The Most Romantic Region Of The World.

But 'midst The Crowd, The Hum, The Shock Of Men, To Hear, To See, To Feel, And To Possess, And Roam Along, The World's Tired Denizen, With None Who Bless Us, None Whom We Can Bless.

Think Not I Am What I Appear.

Lovers May Be And Indeed Generally Are Enemies, But They Never Can Be Friends, Because There Must Always Be A Spice Of Jealousy And A Something Of Self In All Their Speculations.

But There Are Wanderers O'er Eternity Whose Bark Drives On And On, And Anchor'd Ne'er Shall Be.