The Truly Brave Are Soft Of Heart

Bologna Is Celebrated For Producing Popes, Painters, And Sausage.

Death, So Called, Is A Thing Which Makes Men Weep, And Yet A Third Of Life Is Passed In Sleep.

On With The Dance! Let Joy Be Unconfin'd No Sleep Till Morn, When Youth And Pleasure Meet To Chase The Glowing Hours With Flying Feet

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse -- Borne Away With Every Breath!

The Devil Hath Not, In All His Quiver's Choice, An Arrow For The Heart Like A Sweet Voice.