In the street called the Corsia de’ Servi, there is still today a bakery which bears the same name that it did then. In Tuscan it would be called the ‘Forno delle Grucce’; but in the Milanese dialect its name is made up of such strange, uncouth and barbarous sounds that our alphabet has no symbols to represent them. The crowd hurried off in that direction. The shop people were questioning the delivery boy, who had returned without his basket, looking very frightened and tousled.

The Betrothed, by Alessandro Manzoni

‘That’s true enough; for it seems to me that the season for laughter is with us now, and none too soon at that. We’ve seen some ugly times, my dear young people, ugly times in plenty…we may fairly hope for better things during the few years that still lie before us in this world. But all of you are in luck, for if all goes well you should have quite some time to spend talking over your past troubles. But the hands of my clock stand at a quarter to twelve, and…well, scoundrels may die; people may have the plague and get better; but there’s no cure for anno domini. Senectus ipsa est morbus, as they say.’

Alessandro Manzoni, The Betrothed

Renzo did not know what to say for a moment. But after a long debate, and much heart-searching they came to the conclusion that troubles very often come because we have asked for them; but that the most prudent and innocent of conduct is not necessarily enough to keep them away; also that when they come, through our fault or otherwise, trust in God goes far to take away their sting, and makes them a useful preparation for a better life.

Alessandro Manzoni, The Betrothed