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Go, grieving rimes of mine, to that hard stone Whereunder lies my darling, lies my dear, And cry to her to speak from heaven's sphere.
Petrarch
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Petrarch
Age: 69 †
Born: 1304
Born: July 20
Died: 1374
Died: July 19
Autobiographer
Lyricist
Mountaineer
Philologist
Philosopher
Poet
Translator
Writer
Francesco Petrarca
Peetrarque
Petrarque
Francesco Peetrarque
Francesco Petrarch
Mines
Darling
Mine
Grieving
Lies
Spheres
Heaven
Stone
Lying
Stones
Speak
Grief
Hard
Cry
Dear
Sphere
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A short cut to riches is to subtract from our desires.
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The greater I am, the greater shall be my efforts.
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Books can warm the heart with friendly words and counsel, entering into a close relationship with us which is articulate and alive
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How fortune brings to earth the over-sure!
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Where you are is of no moment, but only what you are doing there. It is not the place that ennobles you, but you the place, and this only by doing that which is great and noble.
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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.
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I have taken pride in others, never in myself.
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Man has not a greater enemy than himself.
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Wanting is not enough, long and you attain it.
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How quick the old woe follows a little bliss!
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How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.
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For style beyond the genius never dares.
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I desire that death find me ready and writing, or if it please Christ, praying and intears.
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Continued work and application form my soul's nourishment. So soon as I commenced to rest and relax I should cease to live.
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Life in itself is short enough, but the physicians with their art, know to their amusement, how to make it still shorter.
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Hitherto your eyes have been darkened and you have looked too much, yes, far too much, upon the things of earth. If these so much delight you what shall be your rapture when you lift your gaze to things eternal!
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Love is the crowning grace of humanity.
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He loves but lightly who his love can tell.
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To be able to say how much love, is love but little.
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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.
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