Letitia Elizabeth Landon (August 14, 1802 – October 15, 1838) was an English poet and novelist, better known by her initials L. E. L. She was one of the richest sources of epigrams in the early nineteenth century and one reviewer compared her to Rochefoucauld. Sometimes she adopts an adversarial role, giving contradictory viewpoints. Some of her thoughts recur, either developed or refined, but over time she also threw out differing opinions on some subjects; changeability, she argues, is one of our principal traits and, as she has one character remark, truth is like the philosopher's stone, a thing not to be discovered.
Oh this is not that sweet love Own companion to the dove ; But a wild and wandering thing, Varying as the lights that fling Radiance o'er his peacock's wing. I do weep, that Love should be Ever linked with Vanity.
And had he not long read Her heart's hush'd secret in the soft dark eye Lighted at his approach, and on the cheek Colouring all crimson at his lightest look?
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I have ever remarked, that when Fate has any great misfortune in store, it is always preceded by a brief period of calm and sunshine—as if to add bitterness of contrast to all other misery. It is for the happy to tremble—it is over their heads that the thunderbolt is about to burst.
