I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High read more

I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.

Every man cannot go to Corinthum.
[Lat., Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum.]

Every man cannot go to Corinthum.
[Lat., Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum.]

Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount
Zion, on the sides of the north, the read more

Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount
Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King.

When you get tired of walking around San Francisco, you can always lean against it

When you get tired of walking around San Francisco, you can always lean against it

A tranquil city of good laws, fine architecture, and clean streets is like a classroom of obedient dullards, or a read more

A tranquil city of good laws, fine architecture, and clean streets is like a classroom of obedient dullards, or a field of gelded bulls - whereas a city of anarchy is a city of promise

Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athens--these
seven cities contend as to being the birthplace of the
illustrious read more

Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athens--these
seven cities contend as to being the birthplace of the
illustrious Homer.
[Lat., Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athenae,
Hae septem certant de stirpe insignis Homeri.]

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life read more

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford

He [Caesar Augustus] found a city built of brick; he left it
built of marble.
[Lat., Urbem lateritiam read more

He [Caesar Augustus] found a city built of brick; he left it
built of marble.
[Lat., Urbem lateritiam accepit, mamoream relinquit.]

No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of read more

No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of a dying style:
A village like an instinct left to rust,
Composed around the echo of a pistol-shot.