Petrarch Quotes

My brother, waiting to hear something of St. Augustine's from my lips, stood attentively by. I call him, and God too, to witness that where I first fixed my eyes it was written: "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 was abashed, and, asking my brother (who was anxious to hear more), not to annoy me, I closed the book, angry with myself that I should still be admiring earthly things who might long ago have learned from even the pagan philosophers that nothing is wonderful but the soul, which, when great itself, finds nothing great outside itself. Then, in truth, I was satisfied that I had seen enough of the mountain; I turned my inward eye upon myself, and from that time not a syllable fell from my lips until we reached the bottom again. Those words had given me occupation enough, for I could not believe that it was by a mere accident that I happened upon them. What I had there read I believed to be addressed to me and to no other, remembering that St. Augustine had once suspected the same thing in his own case, when, on opening the book of the Apostle, as he himself tells us, the first words that he saw there were, "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof."

To-day I made the ascent of the highest mountain in this region, which is not improperly called Ventosum. My only motive was the wish to see what so great an elevation had to offer. I have had the expedition in mind for many years; for, as you know, I have lived in this region from infancy, having been cast here by that fate which determines the affairs of men. Consequently the mountain, which is visible from a great distance, was ever before my eyes, and I conceived the plan of some time doing what I have at last accomplished to-day.

This age of ours consequently has let fall, bit by bit, some of the richest and sweetest fruits that the tree of knowledge has yielded; has thrown away the results of the vigils and labours of the most illustrious men of genius, things of more value, I am almost tempted to say, than anything else in the whole world.

When now and then among the other ladies, Love makes his home within her charming face, the ways in which each one can't match her beauty renew desire, and my passion thrives.

My destiny leads me to seek and see her, drawn to the thing that I know will consume me.

"While I'm lamenting, every now and then, a doubt arrives to torment me and haunt me: how can these limbs survive without their spirit? Love has an answer, though: "Don't you recall? This is the privilege reserved for lovers, released from all their human qualities.

The same way she, who is a sun herself, turns her sweet eyes upon me and stirs up the thoughts and words and deeds that deal with love: but any way she rules or governs them, spring still can never happen in my heart.

It's true your smile, mild and full of peace, retains the power to calm my passion down and free me from the flames that torture me while I'm intent and fixed on watching you; but then my spirits are transformed to ice because we part and those two fatal stars direct their movements elsewhere, leaving me.

I closed the book*, angry with myself that I should still be admiring earthly things who might long ago have learned from even the pagan philosophers that nothing is wonderful but the soul, which, when great itself, finds nothing great outside itself. Then, in truth, I was satisfied that I had seen enough of the mountain; I turned my inward eye upon myself, and from that time not a syllable fell from my lips until we reached the bottom again... [W]e look about us for what is to be found only within... How many times, think you, did I turn back that day, to glance at the summit of the mountain which seemed scarcely a cubit high compared with the range of human contemplation.

* Augustine's Confessions: 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.

Si no es amor, ¿qué es esto que yo siento? Mas si es amor, por Dios, ¿qué cosa y cuál? Si es buena, ¿por qué es áspera y mortal? Si mala, ¿por qué es dulce su tormento?

«Mostrando vas la vía a otros, ¡oh, hermano!, y tú frecuentemente perdido andas, y más hoy todavía.»

pero si alguna vez yo río o canto, lo hago porque no tengo sino una manera de ocultar mi triste llanto.

Since speaking of her eyes calls up the passion in me, and nothing else I do affects me quite so deeply, I must visit often where my sorrow wells up and overflows its boundaries, and thus my eyes are punished with my heart, because they led me on the road to love.

I go in silence, since my fatal words would make men weep and what I really want is solitude in which to shed my tears.

This is my only way to shield myself, from people's knowing glances, since they read from my miserable bearing, all joy spent, and know the fires that must rage within.