Who Is To Guard The

No Nice Extreme A True Italian Knows; But Bid Him Go To Hell, To Hell He Goes.

The Brief Span Of Our Poor Unhappy Life To Its Final Hour Is Hastening On; And While We Drink And Call For Gay Wreaths, Perfumes, And Young Girls, Old Age Creeps Upon Us, Unperceived.

Common Sense Among Men Of Fortune Is Rare.

Those Who Desire To Become Rich, Desire It At Once.

The Short Bloom Of Our Brief And Narrow Life Flies Fast Away. While We Are Calling For Flowers And Wine And Women, Old Age Is Upon Us.