“I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.”

“Tis strange - but true; for truth is always strange;Stranger than fiction; if it could be told,How much would novels gain by the exchange!How differently the world would men behold!How oft would vice and virtue places change!The new world would be nothing to the old,If some Columbus of the moral seasWould show mankind their souls' antipodes.”

“I am at length joined to Bologna, where I am settled like a sausage.”

“I am ashes where once I was fire...”

“But 'why then publish?' There are no rewardsOf fame or profit when the world grows weary.I ask in turn why do you play at cards?Why drink? Why read? To make some hour less dreary.It occupies me to turn back regardsOn what I've seen or pondered, sad or cheery,And what I write I cast upon the streamTo swim or sink. I have had at least my dream.”

“In secret we met -In silence I grieve,That thy heart could forget,Thy spirit deceive.If I should meet theeAfter long years,How should I greet thee? -With silence and tears”

“The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.”