We have hearts within, Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts.

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!

But since he had The genius to be loved, why let him have The justice to be honoured in his grave.

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

A grave, on which to rest from singing?

Think, in mounting higher, the angels would press on us, and aspire to drop some golden orb of perfect song into our deep, dear silence.

Yes, I answered you last night; No, this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light Will not look the same by day.