Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.
PETRARCHMan has no greater enemy than himself. I have acted contrary to my sentiments and inclination; throughout our whole lives we do what we never intended, and what we proposed to do, we leave undone.
More Petrarch Quotes
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Man has not a greater enemy than himself.
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While life is in your body, you have the rein of all thoughts in your hands.
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Love is the crowning grace of humanity.
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I have taken pride in others, never in myself.
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An equal doom clipp’d Time’s blest wings of peace.
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A short cut to riches is to subtract from our desires.
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Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together.
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Virtue is health, vice is sickness.
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The end of doubt is the beginning of repose.
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To be able to say how much love, is love but little.
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Great errors seldom originate but with men of great minds.
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And men go about to wonder at the heights of the mountains, and the mighty waves of the sea, and the wide sweep of rivers, and the circuit of the ocean, and the revolution of the stars, but themselves they consider not.
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I have friends whose society is delightful to me; they are persons of all countries and of all ages; distinguished in war, in council, and in letters; easy to live with, always at my command.
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Death had his grudge against me, and he got up in the way, like an armed robber, with a pike in his hand.
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I saw the tracks of angels in the earth: the beauty of heaven walking by itself on the world.
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How quick the old woe follows a little bliss!
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I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.
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What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances.
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There is no lighter burden, nor more agreeable, than a pen.
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Events appear sad, pleasant, or painful, not because they are so in reality, but because we believe them to be so and the light in which we look at them depends upon our own judgment.
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My flowery and green age was passing away, and I feeling a chill in the fires had been wasting my heart, for I was drawing near the hillside above the grave.
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Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure.
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All pleasure in the world is a passing dream.
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Reality is always the foe of famous names.
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For virtue only finds eternal Fame.
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He loves but lightly who his love can tell.
PETRARCH