quotes from classic

There is, in fact, no law or government at all [in Italy]; and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.

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Why did she love him? Curious fool - be still - is human love the growth of human will?

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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.

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There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.

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What an antithetical mind! - tenderness, roughness - delicacy, coarseness - sentiment, sensuality - soaring and groveling, dirt and deity - all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!

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Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.

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To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.

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A mistress never is nor can be a friend. While you agree, you are lovers; and when it is over, anything but friends.

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Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.

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In solitude, where we are least alone.

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In short, he was a perfect cavaliero, and to his very valet seemed a hero.

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Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.

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Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.

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My time has been passed viciously and agreeably; at thirty-one so few years months days hours or minutes remain that Carpe Diem is not enough. I have been obliged to crop even the seconds-for who can trust to tomorrow?

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Who loves, raves.

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I have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.

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And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation; such as a revolution, a battle, or an adventure of any lively description.

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Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.

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Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

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What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of seed which may be spilt in a whore's lap, or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream, might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Bonaparte - there is nothing remarkable recorded of their sires, that I know of.

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