The heart will break, but broken live on.

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the Glowing Hours with Flying feet

I learned to love despair.

Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.

Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.

For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.