It was always dear to me, this solitary hill, and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view, from so much of the ultimate horizon. But sitting here, and watching here, in thought, I create interminable spaces, greater than human silences, and deepestquiet, where the heart barely fails to terrify. When I hear the wind, blowing among these leaves, I go on to compare that infinite silencewith this voice, and I remember the eternaland the dead seasons, and the living present, and its sound, so that in this immensitymy thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweetto me in this sea.
Giacomo LeopardiAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: italian
- Born: June 29, 1798
- Died: June 14, 1837
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Life's a forge -Yes, and hammer and anvil, too. You'll be roasted, smelted, and pounded, and you'll scarce know what's happening toyou. But stand proudly to it. Metal'sworthless till it is shaped andtempered. More labor than luck. Face the pounding, don't fear the proving; and you'll stand well against any hammer and anvil.
Lloyd Alexander