Quão doce é o louvor e a justa glória Dos próprios feitos, quando são soados! Qualquer nobre trabalha que em memória Vença ou iguale os grandes já pa… - Luís de Camões

Porém, pera cantar de vosso gesto
A composição alta e milagrosa
Aqui falta saber, engenho e arte.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,
A wound that aches yet isn't felt,
An always discontent contentment,
A pain that rages without hurting,</p>A longing for nothing but to long,
A loneliness in the midst of people,
A never feeling pleased when pleased,
A passion that gains when lost in thought. It's being enslaved of your own free will;
It's counting your defeat a victory;
It's staying loyal to your killer. But if it's so self-contradictory,
How can Love, when Love chooses,
Bring human hearts into sympathy?

As derradeiras palavras que na náu disse foram as de Scipião Africano: Ingrata patria, non possidebis ossa mea!