If I could bronze my love, it’d be worthy of a silver medal. I would pour you a large glass of Michael Phelps, but I don’t have that much water.

My eyes are bronze, my hair is turning silver, and my heart is gold. Oh, and my love for you belongs in the Olympics, because it’s Special.

I object to that object that’s made of bronze and shaped like my clone. It should be made of gold, and shaped like me.

As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.