Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.

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.'"

White shall not neutralize the black, nor good compensate bad in man, absolve him so; life's business being just the terrible choice.

When is man strong until he feels alone?

How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!

The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.

Escape me? Never, beloved! While I am I, and you are you.