Kossuth called himself "a tempest-tossed soul, whose eyes have been sharpened by affliction."

What a balm to the tempest-tossed soul is a little love, though it may be fleeting and fickle!

The tempest-tossed soul was at rest; above were the pitying Angels' wings, and over all the solemn hush of Death.

Divine moment, when over the tempest-tossed Soul, as once over the wild-weltering Chaos, it is spoken: 'Let there be Light!'