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I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one's partners in the waltz of this world -not much remembered when the ball is over.
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But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
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Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
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I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
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Hearts will break - yet brokenly, live on.
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He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
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The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--beautiful! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man, and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learned the language of another world.
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Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And shook within their pyramids to hear A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; While the dark shades of forty ages stood Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood.
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The lapse of ages changes all things - time - language - the earth - the bounds of the sea - the stars of the sky, and everything 'about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet been made have multiplied little but existence.
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I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.
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I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day.
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I die - but first I have possessed,And come what may, I have been blessed.
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Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.
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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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A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.
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I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand; I saw from out the wave of her structure's rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble pines, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
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There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
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It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard;It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
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Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss.
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Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.
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I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
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The sight of blood to crowds begets the thirst of more, As the first wine-cup leads to the long revel.
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Always laugh when you can; it is cheap medicine. Merriment is a philosophy not well understood. It is the sunny side of existence.
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Though the day of my Destiny's over,And the star of my Fate hath declined,Thy soft heart refused to discoverThe faults which so many could find.