Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

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.'"

Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!

God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.

How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?