Love, That All Gentle Hearts So Quickly

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame.

... Nessun Maggior Dolore Che Ricordarsi Del Tempo Felice Nella Miseria. (there Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember A Happy Time When One Is In Misery.)

All Your Renown Is Like The Summer Flower That Blooms And Dies; Because The Sunny Glow Which Brings It Forth, Soon Slays With Parching Power.

He Who Know Most Grieves Most For Wasted Time.

I Am Made Of God, Through His Grace. Such That Your Misery Touches Me Not, Nor Does Flame Of That Burning Assail Me.