Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean – roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; man marks the earth with ruin – his control stops with the shore.
Life’s enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
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.
Fame is the thirst of youth.
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state; an hour may lay it in the dust.
