I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself. Petrarch More Quotes by Petrarch More Quotes From Petrarch Who over-refines his argument brings himself to grief Petrarch argument grief For virtue only finds eternal Fame. Petrarch eternal virtue fame Reality is always the foe of famous names. Petrarch foe names reality Often on earth the gentlest heart is fain To feed and banquet on another's woe. Petrarch woe earth heart To begin with myself, then, the utterances of men concerning me will differ widely, since in passing judgment almost every one is influenced not so much by truth as by preference, and good and evil report alike know no bounds. Petrarch utterance evil men How quick the old woe follows a little bliss! Petrarch bliss woe littles 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. Petrarch war country book I saw the tracks of angels in the earth: the beauty of heaven walking by itself on the world. Petrarch track angel heaven Where are the numerous constructions erected by Agrippa, of which only the Pantheon remains? Where are the splendorous palaces of the emperors? Petrarch pantheon construction palaces Life in itself is short enough, but the physicians with their art, know to their amusement, how to make it still shorter. Petrarch amusement physicians art My flowery and green age was passing away, and I feeling a chill in Petrarch drawing heart death Hope is incredible to the slave of grief. Petrarch incredibles sorrow grief An equal doom clipp'd Time's blest wings of peace. Petrarch equal wings peace While life is in your body, you have the rein of all thoughts in your hands. Petrarch body life-is hands For death betimes is comfort, not dismay, and who can rightly die needs no delay. Petrarch comfort death needs I had got this far, and was thinking of what to say next, and as my habit is, I was pricking the paper idly with my pen. And I thought how, between one dip of the pen and the next, time goes on, and I hurry, drive myself, and speed toward death. We are always dying. I while I write, you while you read, and others while they listen or stop their ears, they are all dying. Petrarch dying writing thinking For style beyond the genius never dares. Petrarch dare style genius From thought to thought, from mountain peak to mountain. Love leads me on; for I can never still My trouble on the world's well beaten ways. Petrarch mountain-peaks hiking journey Go, grieving rimes of mine, to that hard stone Petrarch grief grieving lying Books never pall on me. They discourse with us, they take counsel with us, and are united to us by a certain living chatty familiarity. And not only does each book inspire the sense that it belongs to its readers, but it also suggests the name of others, and one begets the desire of the other. Petrarch names life book
