Petrarch, anglicized from Italian name Francesco Petrarca

Petrarch, anglicized from Italian name Francesco Petrarca

Italian Scholar, Poet and one of the earliest Renaissance Humanists

Author Quotes

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.

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.

She closed her eyes; and in the sweet slumber lying her spirit tiptoed from its lodging place. It's folly to shrink in fear, if this is dying; for death looked lovely in her face.

Yet have I oft been beaten in the field, And sometimes hurt, said I, but scorn'd to yield. He smiled and said: Alas! thou dost not see, My son, how great a flame's prepared for thee.

And tears are heard within the harp I touch.

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.

So sweet all people sounds the word freedom that even audacity and impudence everywhere catch on because they have some similarities with freedom.

Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows, mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved mate, a soothing charm o'er all the valleys throws and skies, with notes well tuned to her and state.

And who can rightly die needs no delay.

I know and love the good, yet ah! the worst pursue.

Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.

You keep to your own ways and leave mine to me.

Behold who ever wept, and in his tears was happier far than others in their smiles.

I rejoiced in my progress, mourned my weaknesses, and commiserated the universal instability of human conduct. I had well-nigh forgotten where I was and our object in coming; but at last I dismissed my anxieties, which were better suited to other surroundings, and resolved to look about me and see what we had come to see. The sinking sun and the lengthening shadows of the mountain were already warning us that the time was near at hand when we must go. As if suddenly wakened from sleep, I turned about and gazed toward the west. I was unable to discern the summits of the Pyrenees, which form the barrier between France and Spain; not because of any intervening obstacle that I know of but owing simply to the insufficiency of our mortal vision.

The aged love what is practical while impetuous youth longs only for what is dazzling.

You, my friend, by a strange confusion of arguments, try to dissuade me from continuing my chosen work by urging, on the one hand, the hopelessness of bringing my task to completion, and by dwelling, on the other, upon the glory which I have already acquired. Then, after asserting that I have filled the world with my writings, you ask me if I expect to equal the number of volumes written by Origen or Augustine. No one, it seems to me, can hope to equal Augustine. Who, nowadays, could hope to equal one who, in my judgment, was the greatest in an age fertile in great minds? As for Origen, you know that I am wont to value quality rather than quantity, and I should prefer to have produced a very few irreproachable works rather than numberless volumes such as those of Origen, which are filled with grave and intolerable errors.

Books come at my call and return when I desire them; they are never out of humor and they answer all my questions with readiness. Some present in review before me the events of past ages; others reveal to me the secrets of Nature. These teach me how to live, and those how to die; these dispel my melancholy by their mirth, and amuse me by their sallies of wit. Some there are who prepare my soul to suffer everything, to desire nothing, and to become thoroughly acquainted with itself. In a word, they open the door to all the arts and sciences.

I wish to go beyond the fire that burns me.

The senses reign, and reason now is dead; from one pleasing desire comes another. Virtue, honor, beauty, gracious bearing, sweet words have caught me in her lovely branches in which my heart is tenderly entangled. In thirteen twenty-seven, and precisely at the first hour of the sixth of April I entered the labyrinth, and I see no way out.

For death betimes is comfort, not dismay, and who can rightly die needs no delay.

I would have preferred to have been born in any other time than our own.

The time will come when every change shall cease, this quick revolving wheel shall rest in peace: no summer then shall glow, nor winter freeze; nothing shall be to come, and nothing past, but an eternal now shall ever last. Those spacious regions where our fancies roam, pain?d by the past, expecting ills to come, in some dread moment, by the fates assign?d, shall pass away, nor leave a rack behind; and Time?s revolving wheels shall lose at last the speed that spins the future and the past: and, sovereign of an undisputed throne, awful eternity shall reign alone.

For style beyond the genius never dares.

In my younger days I struggled constantly with an overwhelming but pure love affair - my only one, and I would have struggled with it longer had not premature death, bitter but salutary for me, extinguished the cooling flames. I certainly wish I could say that I have always been entirely free from desires of the flesh, but I would be lying if I did.

The world?s delight is a brief dream.

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Petrarch, anglicized from Italian name Francesco Petrarca
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Italian Scholar, Poet and one of the earliest Renaissance Humanists