I’ve almost gained my heav’nly home; My spirit loudly sings;
The holy ones behold they come, I hear the noise of wings.
O come, angel band, Come and around me stand.
O bear me away on your snowy wings, To my immortal home.
—T. Haskell, minister and hymn-writer. Published in Christian Harmony. “Angel Band,” l. 5-8.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise
To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice
Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
—John Milton (1608–1674)
Fate is never too generous—even to its favorites. Rarely do the gods grant a mortal more than one immortal deed.
—Stefan Zweig (18811942)