“
For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,And still I seem to tread on classic ground.
— Italy
For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,And still I seem to tread on classic ground.
Italy, my Italy!"Open my heart and you will see Graved inside of it, 'Italy.'"
Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
Venice once was dear,The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
Italy's youngsters complain, apparently, about having to live at home until they are 72 but that's because they spend all their money on suits and coffee and Alfa Romeos rather than mortgages.
Beyond the Alps lies Italy.
A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see.
[of the Sicilians] They never want to improve. They think themselves perfect. Their vanity is greater than their misery.
France exists so that you can drive to Italy.
We who have seen Italia in the throes, ruinous discords, with one lustrous aim.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,And the grandeur that was Rome.
My soul to-daySailing the Vesuvian Bay
Italy, and the spring and first love all together should suffice to make the gloomiest person happy.
How beautiful is sunset when the glowThou Paradise of exiles, Italy!
Some jay of Italy,Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our apish nation Limps after in base imitation.
Enough, enough, enough! Say no more! Lump the whole thing! say the Creator made Italy from designs by Michael Angelo!
You may have the universe if I may have Italy.
In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed - they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love and five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock!
