Men Are Misers, And Women Prodigal, In

Yet, In These Autumn Days When Nature Expires, Here, In These Veiled Scenes, I Find More Attractions; It Is A Friend's Sad Goodbye; It Is The Last Smile From Lips That Death Is Going To Close Forever!

Every Time That A People Which Has Long Crouched In Slavery And Ignorance Is Moved To Its Lowest Depths There Appear Monsters And Heroes, Prodigies Of Crime And Prodigies Of Virtue.

What Mortal Is There, Over Whose First Joys And Happiness Does Not Break Some Storm, Dispelling With Its Icy Breath His Fanciful Illusions, And Shattering His Altar?

We Cannot Have Two Hearts, One For The Animals And One For Men. In Cruelty Towards The Former And Cruelty To The Latter There Is No Difference But In The Victim.

Too Much I've Seen, And Felt, And Lov'd In Life, Living I Come To Seek Lethaean Calm; Let Me, Fair Scenes! Forget All Worldly Strife, Oblivion Solely Is My Bosom's Balm.