To Nobody, Then, Will I Write My

I Looked About For Some Of My Acquaintance, But In Vain, For I Saw Not One Person That I Knew, Which Is Very Odd, For All The World Seemed There.

While All The Pomp And Circumstance Of War Animated Others, It Only Saddened Me; And All Of Past Reflection, All Of Future Dread, Made The Whole Grandeur Of The Martial Scene, And All The Delusive Seduction Of Martial Music, Fill My Eyes Frequently With Tears.

Far From Having Taken Any Positive Step, I Have Not Yet Even Fommed Any Resolution.

I Love And Honour [paulus Aemilius, In Plutarch's Lives], For His Fondness For His Children, Which Instead Of Blushing At, He Avows And Glories In: And That At An Age, When Almost All The Heros And Great Men Thought That To Make Their Children And Family A Secondary Concern, Was The First Proof Of Their Superiority And Greatness Of Soul.

Travelling Is The Ruin Of All Happiness. There's No Looking At A Building Here After Seeing Italy.