Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): "Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
God! Thou art love! I build my faith on that.
When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.
Death: the grand perhaps.
I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.