Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
My sun sets to rise again.
Graved inside of it, "Italy".
Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.
In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity