Graved inside of it, "Italy".
But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.
Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
Aspire, break bounds. Endeavor to be good, and better still, best.
'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.