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To fly from, need not be to hate, makind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor read more
To fly from, need not be to hate, makind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain. - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 1818.
Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars read more
Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.
Absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends.
Absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends.
In solitude, be a multitude to thyself. Tibullus by all means use sometimes to be alone.
In solitude, be a multitude to thyself. Tibullus by all means use sometimes to be alone.
No matter how close to yours another's steps have grown, in the end there is one dance you'll do alone.
No matter how close to yours another's steps have grown, in the end there is one dance you'll do alone.
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent read more
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends. The friend becomes a traitor by breaking, however unwillingly or sadly, out of our own zone: a hard judgment is passed on him, for all the pleas of the heart.
To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy read more
To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet. - Lacon, 1825.
A man has to live with himself, and he should see to it that he always has good company.
A man has to live with himself, and he should see to it that he always has good company.
Regrets are idle; yet history is one long regret. Everything might have turned out so differently. - My Summer in read more
Regrets are idle; yet history is one long regret. Everything might have turned out so differently. - My Summer in a Garden.
