I suppose a dying man may speak the truth about himself.

I too might have been a poet, if life had dealt more kindly with me.

I think you would have liked the thing I was writing; I'd finished some three hundred lines; but now you'll never see it.

Well, I don't know that it matters." Waymark tried to speak in a tone of hopefulness, but it was hard to give his words the semblance of sincerity.
"Do you remember," Casti continued, "when all my talk used to be about Rome, and how I planned to see it one day--see it again.

I should say?
Strange to think that I really was born in Rome.