Petrarch Quotes
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Love is the crowning grace of humanity, the holiest right of the soul, the golden link which binds us to duty and truth, the redeeming principle that chiefly reconciles the heart to life, and is prophetic of eternal good.
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It is better to will the good than to know the truth.
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It may be only glory that we seek here, but I persuade myself that, as long as we remain here, that is right. Another glory awaits us in heaven and he who reaches there will not wish even to think of earthly fame.
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He loves but lightly who his love can tell.
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When the poet died his cat was put to death and mummified.
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Life in itself is short enough, but the physicians with their art, know to their amusement, how to make it still shorter.
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For style beyond the genius never dares.
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A short cut to riches is to subtract from our desires.
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From thought to thought, from mountain peak to mountain. Love leads me on; for I can never still My trouble on the world's well beaten ways.
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Do you suppose there is any living man so unreasonable that if he found himself stricken with a dangerous ailment he would not anxiously desire to regain the blessing of health?
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To be able to say how much love, is love but little.
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I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.
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To begin with myself, then, the utterances of men concerning me will differ widely, since in passing judgment almost every one is influenced not so much by truth as by preference, and good and evil report alike know no bounds.
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Wanting is not enough, long and you attain it.
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While life is in your body, you have the rein of all thoughts in your hands.
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Books have led some to learning and others to madness.
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Hitherto your eyes have been darkened and you have looked too much, yes, far too much, upon the things of earth. If these so much delight you what shall be your rapture when you lift your gaze to things eternal!
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I desire that death find me ready and writing, or if it please Christ, praying and intears.
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The end of doubt is the beginning of repose.
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Those spacious regions where our fancies roam, Pain'd by the past, expecting ills to come, In some dread moment, by the fates assign'd, Shall pass away, nor leave a rack behind; And Time's revolving wheels shall lose at last The speed that spins the future and the past: And, sovereign of an undisputed throne, Awful eternity shall reign alone.
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For death betimes is comfort, not dismay, and who can rightly die needs no delay.
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Man has not a greater enemy than himself.
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How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.
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I would have preferred to have been born in any other time than our own.