Spira, Spera. (breathe, Hope)

Nothing Is More Imminent Than The Impossible . . . What We Must Always Foresee Is The Unforeseen.

He Did Not Study God; He Was Dazzled By Him.

A Joyous Little Creature, So Beautiful, It Was As If A Gate Of Heaven Opened As She Came In.

I Repeat, Whether We Be Italians Or Frenchmen, Misery Concerns Us All.

The Beautiful Has But One Type, The Ugly Has A Thousand.