Letitia Elizabeth Landon Quotes
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Oh! what is memory but a giftWithin a ruin'd temple left,Recalling what its beauties were,And then presenting what they are.
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Where, oh, where's the chain to fling,One that will chain Cupid's wing-One that will have longer powerThan the April sun or shower?
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I am a daughter of that land,Where the poet’s lip and the painter’s handAre most divine, -where the earth and sky,Are picture both and poetry-I am of Florence.
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The discharge of a duty from affection is the best solace for sorrow.
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The first, the very first; oh! noneCan feel again as they have done;In love, in war, in pride, in allThe planets of life's coronal,However beautiful or bright,-What can be like their first sweet light?
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But as our explanation will be more brief than one broken in upon by words of wonder, regret, and affection, we will proceed to it ; holding that explanation, like advice, should be of all convenient shortness.
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From Cesario
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November's night is dark and drear,The dullest month of all the year.
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We talk of unsophisticated nature-I should like to know where it is to be found.
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Ill-timed admiration is enough to enrage a saint.
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The fearless make their own way.
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Alas! that every lovely thingLives only but for withering,-That spring rainbows and summer shineEnd but in autumn's pale decline.
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How sweet on the breeze of the evening swellsThe vesper call of those soothing bells,Borne softly and dying in echoes away,Like a requiem sung to the parting day.
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A despotic power makes slaves.
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Philosophers are moral, and poets are picturesque about the country.
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From Castruccio
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I rather disdained than coveted the luxuries I saw : alas ! we desire riches more for others than ourselves.
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I LOVED her! ay, I would have givenA death-bed certainty of heavenIf I had thought it could conferThe least of happiness on her!
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But youth is as a flowing stream, on whose current the shadow may rest but not remain.
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Oh, she had yet the task to learnHow often woman's heart must turnTo feed upon its own excessOf deep yet passionate tenderness!How much of grief the heart must proveThat yields a sanctuary to love!
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... oh! love will lastWhen all that made it happiness is past,-When all its hopes are as the glittering toysTime present offers, time to come destroys,-
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What a mistake rage is ! anger should never go beyond a sneer, if it really desires revenge.
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THE present! it is but a drop from the seaIn the mighty depths of eternity.I love it not-it taketh its birthToo near to the dull and the common earth.
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'Tis not for Spring to think on allThe sear and waste of Autumn's fall: -