Toi, Sicile, que ronge un volcan souterrain, Grece qu'on connait
trop, Sardaigne qu'on ignore, Cites de l'Aquilon, du Couchant, de
l'Aurore, Pyramides du Nil, Cathedrales du Rhin! Qui sait?--
jamais peut-etre!

[We say: "Now it is time. Let's act, for 'tis the hour." Then
turn we but our eyes--lo! death is there! Thus with my plans.
When shall I see thee, Espagna, And Venice with her gulf, and
Rome with her Campagna; Thou, Sicily, whom volcanoes undermine;
Greece, whom we know too well, Sardinia, unknown one, Lands of
the north, the west, the rising sun, Pyramids of the Nile,
Cathedrals of the Rhine! Who knows? Never perchance!]

Earthly life is but a malady of the soul, an excitement which is
kept up by the passions. The natural state of the soul is rest!

Paris, May 2nd [1832]

Here is a whole fortnight that my mind and fingers have been
working like two lost spirits, Homer, the Bible, Plato, Locke,
Byron, Hugo, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, Beethoven, Bach, Hummel,
Mozart, Weber, are all around me. I study them, meditate on them,
devour them with fury; besides this I practice four to five hours
of exercises (3rds, 6ths, 8ths, tremolos, repetition of notes,
cadences, etc., etc.). Ah! provided I don't go mad, you will find
an artist in me! Yes, an artist such as you desire, such as is
required nowadays!

"And I too am a painter!" cried Michael Angelo the first time he