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Here We Find The Moat Of Thieves. And Just As A Lizard, With A Quick, Slick Slither, Flicks Across The Highway From Hedge To Hedge, Fleeter Than A Flash, In The Battering Dog-day Weather, A Fiery Little Monster, Livid, In A Rage, Black As Any Peppercorn, Came And Made A Dart At The Guts Of The Others, And Leaping To Engage One Of The Pair, It Pierced Him At The Part Through Which We First Draw Food; Then Loosed Its Grip And Fell Before Him, Outstretched And Apart.

-Dante Alighieri

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Here We Find The

Dante Alighieri

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Here We Find The Moat Of Thieves. And Just As A Lizard, With A Quick, Slick Slither, Flicks Across The Highway From Hedge To Hedge, Fleeter Than A Flash, In The Battering Dog-day Weather, A Fiery Little Monster, Livid, In A Rage, Black As Any Peppercorn, Came And Made A Dart At The Guts Of The Others, And Leaping To Engage One Of The Pair, It Pierced Him At The Part Through Which We First Draw Food; Then Loosed Its Grip And Fell Before Him, Outstretched And Apart.

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Now You Know How Much My Love For You Burns Deep In Me When I Forget About Our Emptiness, And Deal With Shadows As With Solid Things.

My Love For You

If Your World Isn't Right, The Cause Is In You.

O Power Of Fantasy That Steals Our Minds From Things Outside, To Leave Us Unaware, Although A Thousand Trumpets May Blow Loud--what Stirs You If The Senses Show You Nothing? Light Stirs You, Formed In Heaven, By Itself, Or By His Will Who Sends It Down To Us.

Doubting Pleases Me No Less Than Knowing

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before The Which Is Little That Can Be Read, There Is A Rubric, Saying, Incipit Vita Nova. Under Such Rubric I Find Written Many Things; And Among Them The Words Which I Purpose To Copy Into This Little Book; If Not All Of Them, At The Least Their Substance.

We Are But A Day In This World, And In That Day The Fashion Is Changed A Thousand Times: All Seek Liberty, Yet All Deprive Themselves Of It.

So May Heaven's Grace Clear Away The Foam From The Conscience, That The River Of Thy Thoughts May Roll Limpid Thenceforth.

Heat Cannot Be Separated From Fire, Or Beauty From The Eternal.

O You, Who In Some Pretty Boat, Eager To Listen, Have Been Following Behind My Ship, That Singing Sails Along Turn Back To Look Again Upon Your Own Shores; Tempt Not The Deep, Lest Unawares, In Losing Me, You Yourselves Might Be Lost. The Sea I Sail Has Never Yet Been Passed; Minerva Breathes, And Pilots Me Apollo, And Muses Nine Point Out To Me The Bears. You Other Few Who Have Neck Uplifted Betimes To The Bread Of Angels Upon Which One Lives And Does Not Grow Sated, Well May You Launch Your Vessel Upon The Deep Sea.

Open Your Mind To What I Shall Disclose, And Hold It Fast Within You; He Who Hears, But Does Not Hold What He Has Heard, Learns Nothing. Beatrice - Canto V 40-42

Your Fame Is As The Grass, Whose Hue Comes And Goes, And His Might Withers It By Whose Power It Sprang From The Lap Of The Earth.

I Am Searching For That Which Every Man Seeks-peace And Rest.

If A Thief Helps A Poor Man Out Of The Spoils Of His Thieving, We Must Not Call That Charity.

I Felt For The Tormented Whirlwinds Damned For Their Carnal Sins Committed When They Let Their Passions Rule Their Reason.

You Shall Find Out How Salt Is The Taste Of Another Man's Bread, And How Hard Is The Way Up And Down Another Man's Stairs.

Conscience, That Boon Companion Who Sets A Man Free Under The Strong Breastplate Of Innocence, That Bids Him On And Fear Not.

Like The Lark That Soars In The Air, First Singing, Then Silent, Content With The Last Sweetness That Satiates It, Such Seemed To Me That Image, The Imprint Of The Eternal Pleasure.

Many Have Justice In Their Hearts, But Slowly It Is Let Fly, For It Comes Not Without Council To The Bow.

There Sighs, Lamentations And Loud Wailings Resounded Through The Starless Air, So That At First It Made Me Weep; Strange Tongues, Horrible Language, Words Of Pain, Tones Of Anger, Voices Loud And Hoarse, And With These The Sound Of Hands, Made A Tumult Which Is Whirling Through That Air Forever Dark, And Sand Eddies In A Whirlwind.

We Have No Hope And Yet We Live In Longing.

Less Shame A Greater Fault Would Palliate.

O Faithful Conscience, Delicately Pure, How Doth A Little Failing Wound Thee Sore!

To Get Back Up To The Shining World From There My Guide And I Went Into That Hidden Tunnel, And Following Its Path, We Took No Care To Rest, But Climbed: He First, Then I-so Far, Through A Round Aperture I Saw Appear Some Of The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears, Where We Came Forth, And Once More Saw The Stars.

Astrology, The Noblest Of Sciences.

Nothing Which Is Harmonized By The Bond Of The Muse Can Be Changed From Its Own To Another Language Without Destroying Its Sweetness

The Devil Is Not As Black As He Is Painted.

I Love To Doubt As Well As Know.

Abandon Every Hope, You Who Enter.

This Miserable Way Is Taken By The Sorry Souls Of Those Who Lived Without Disgrace And Without Praise. They Now Commingle With The Coward Angels, The Company Of Those Who Were Not Rebels Nor Faithful To Their God, But Stood Apart. The Heavens, That Their Beauty Not Be Lessened, Have Cast Them Out, Nor Will Deep Hell Receive Them - Even The Wicked Cannot Glory In Them.

Fame Is Not Won On Downy Plumes Nor Under Canopies; The Man Who Consumes His Days Without Obtaining It Leaves Such Mark Of Himself On Earth As Smoke In Air Or Foam On Water.

You Can Stay And Die Or You Can Walk Your Ugly Ass Back Through That Gate. It's Your Call, Pal.

I Affirm That Gain Is Precisely That Which Comes Oftener To The Bad Man Than To The Good; For Illegitimate Gains Never Come To The Good At All, Because They Reject Them. And Lawful Gains Rarely Come To The Good, Because, Since Much Anxious Care Is Needful Thereto, And The Anxious Care Of The Good Man Is Directed To Weightier Matters, Rarely Does The Good Man Give Sufficient Attention Thereto. Wherefore It Is Clear That In Every Way The Advent Of These Riches Is Iniquitous.

Seldom Indeed Does Human Virtue Rise From Trunk To Branch.

These Dwell Among The Blackest Souls,loaded Down Deep By Sins Of Differing Types.if You Sink Far Enough,you'll See Them All.

Art, As Far As It Is Able, Follows Nature, As A Pupil Imitates His Master; Thus Your Art Must Be, As It Were, God's Grandchild.

There Is In Hell A Place Stone-built Throughout, Called Malebolge, Of An Iron Hue, Like To The Wall That Circles It About.

He Who Know Most Grieves Most For Wasted Time.

I Wept Not — So To Stone I Grew Within.

Here My Powers Rest From Their High Fantasy, But Already I Could Feel My Being Turned- Instinct And Intellect Balanced Equally. As In A Wheel Whose Motion Nothing Jars- By The Love That Moves The Sun And The Other Stars.

And As He, Who With Laboring Breath Has Escaped From The Deep To The Shore, Turns To The Perilous Waters And Gazes.

This Mountain Is So Formed That It Is Always Wearisome When One Begins The Ascent, But Becomes Easier The Higher One Climbs.

I Made My Own House Be My Gallows.

I Did Not Die, And Yet I Lost Life’s Breath

If I Thought I Was Replying To Someone Who Would Every Return To The World, This Flame Would Cease It's Flickering. But Since No One Has Returned From These Depths Alive, If What I've Heard Is True, I Will Answer You Without Fear Of Infamy.

Mankind Is At Its Best When It Is Most Free.

Consider The Sea's Listless Chime: Time's Self It Is, Made Audible.

Thou Shall Know By Experience How Salt The Savor Is Of Others' Bread, And How Sad A Path It Is To Climb And Descend Another's Stairs.

If You Follow Your Natural Bent;you Will Definitely Go To Heaven

When We Encountered A Band Of Souls Coming Along The Barrier, And Each Was Gazing At Us In The Evening People Gaze At One Another Under The New Moon

That With Him Were, What Time The Love Divine

The Heavens Call To You, And Circle About You, Displaying To You Their Eternal Splendors, And Your Eye Gazes Only To Earth.

"the Love Of God, Unutterable And Perfect, Flows Into A Pure Soul The Way Light Rushes Into A Transparent Object. The More Love That It Finds, The More It Gives Itself: So That, As We Grow Clear And Open, The More Complete The Joy Of Heaven Is. And The More Souls Who Resonate Together, The Greater The Intensity Of Their Love, And, Mirror Like, Each Soul Reflects The Other.

Knowledge Comes Of Learning Well Retain'd, Unfruitful Else.

My Course Is Set For An Uncharted Sea.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

Oh Foolish Desires Of Mortals! How Weak Are The Reasons That Lead Us To Not Take Off Our Flight From The Ground.

The More A Thing Is Perfect, The More It Feels Pleasure And Likewise Pain.

Come, Follow Me, And Leave The World To Its Babblings.

There Is A Place In Hell Called The Malebolge.

Do Ye Not Comprehend That We Are Worms Born To Bring Forth The Angelic Butterfly That Flieth Unto Judgment Without Screen?

Infinite Goodness Has Such Wide Arms.

He Whom You See-along The Downward Arc- Was William, And The Land That Mourns His Death, For Living Charles And Frederick, Now Laments; Now He Has Learned How Heaven Loves The Just Ruler, And He Would Show This Outwardly As Well, So Radiantly Visible.

These Have Not The Hope To Die.

Three Things Remain With Us From Paradise: Stars, Flowers And Children.

The Experience Of This Sweet Life.

Heaven Wheels Above You, Displaying To You Her Eternal Glories, And Still Your Eyes Are On The Ground.

Consider That This Day Ne'er Dawns Again.

Those Ancients Who In Poetry Presented The Golden Age, Who Sang Its Happy State, Perhaps, In Their Parnassus, Dreamt This Place. Here, Mankind's Root Was Innocent; And Here Were Every Fruit And Never-ending Spring; These Streams--the Nectar Of Which Poets Sing.

And When He Had Put His Hand On Mine With A Cheerful Look, Wherefrom I Took Courage, He Brought Me Within To The Secret Things. Here Sighs, Laments, And Deep Wailings Were Resounding Through The Starless Air; Wherefore At First I Wept Thereat. Strange Tongues, Horrible Utterances, Words Of Woe, Accents Of Anger, Voices High And Faint, And Sounds Of Hands With Them, Were Making A Tumult Which Whirls Always In That Air Forever Dark, Like The Sand When The Whirlwind Breathes.

At Grief So Deep The Tongue Must Wag In Vain; The Language Of Our Sense And Memory Lacks The Vocabulary Of Such Pain.

Love Can Move The Sun And The Stars.

From There We Came Outside And Saw The Stars

How Come I Never Meet Any Nice Girls?

Compassion Is Not A Passion; Rather A Noble Disposition Of The Soul, Made Ready To Receive Love, Mercy, And Other Charitable Passions.

I, Answering In The End, Began: 'alas, How Many Yearning Thoughts, What Great Desire, Have Lead Them Through Such Sorrow To Their Fate?

They Yearn For What They Fear For.

Here Pity Only Lives When It Is Dead - Virgil

As Flowerlets Drooped And Puckered In The Night Turn Up To The Returning Sun And Spread Their Petals Wide On His New Warmth And Light-just So My Wilted Spirits Rose Again And Such A Heat Of Zeal Surged Through My Veins That I Was Born Anew.

When I Had Journeyed Half Of Our Life's Way, I Found Myself Within A Shadowed Forest, For I Had Lost The Path That Does Not Stray.

If Thou Follow Thy Star, Thou Canst Not Fail Of Glorious Heaven.

They Had Their Faces Twisted Toward Their Haunches And Found It Necessary To Walk Backward, Because They Could Not See Ahead Of Them. ...and Since He Wanted So To See Ahead, He Looks Behind And Walks A Backward Path.

The More Souls Who Resonate Together, The Greater The Intensity Of Their Love... And, Mirror-like... Each Soul Reflects The Other.

This Sorrow Weighs Upon The Melancholy Souls Of Those Who Lived Without Infamy Or Praise.

... Nessun Maggior Dolore Che Ricordarsi Del Tempo Felice Nella Miseria. (there Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember A Happy Time When One Is In Misery.)

The Splendors That Belong Unto The Fame Of Earth Are But A Wind, That In The Same Direction Lasts Not Long.

The Purpose Of The Whole [the Comedy] And Of This Portion [the Paradiso] Is To Remove Those Who Are Living In This Life From The State Of Wretchedness, And To Lead Them To The State Of Blessedness.

Not One Drop Of Blood Is Left Inside My Veins That Does Not Throb: I Recognize Signs Of The Ancient Flame.

Into The Eternal Darkness, Into Fire And Into Ice.

But The Stars That Marked Our Starting Fall Away. We Must Go Deeper Into Greater Pain, For It Is Not Permitted That We Stay.

Follow Your Path, And Let The People Talk.

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before Which Little Can Be Read, There Is A Heading, Which Says: ‘incipit Vita Nova: Here Begins The New Life’.

And Here Dante Describes An Evidently Spherical World... "the Lamp Of The World [the Sun] Rises To Mortals Through Different Passages; But Through That Which Joins Four Circles With Three Crosses [the Position Of The Rising Sun At The Vernal Equinox] It Issues With A Better Course And Conjoined With Better Stars, And Tempers And Stamps The Wax Of The World More After Its Own Fashion. Although Such An Outlet Had Made Morning There And Evening Here, And All The Hemisphere There Was Bright, And The Other Dark..."

That Infinite And Indescribable Good Which Is There Above Races As Swiftly To Love As A Ray Of Light To A Bright Body.it Gives Of Itself According To The Ardor It Finds, So That As Charity Spreads Farther The Eternal Good Increases Upon It,and The More Souls There Are Who Love, Up There, The More There Are To Love Well, And The More Love They Reflect To Each Other, As In A Mirror.

No One Thinks Of How Much Blood It Costs.

In That Book Which Is My Memory, On The First Page Of The Chapter That Is The Day When I First Met You, Appear The Words, ‘here Begins A New Life’.

Deed Done Is Well Begun.

Pride, Envy, Avarice - These Are The Sparks Have Set On Fire The Hearts Of All Men.

Perceive Ye Not That We Are Worms, Designed To Form The Angelic Butterfly, That Goes To Judgment, Leaving All Defence Behind? Why Doth Your Mind Take Such Exalted Pose, Since Ye, Disabled, Are As Insects, Mean As Worm Which Never Transformation Knows?

Still Desiring, We Live Without Hope.

Midway Along The Journey Of Our Life I Woke To Find Myself In A Dark Wood, For I Had Wandered Off From The Straight Path. How Hard It Is To Tell What It Was Like, This Wood Of Wilderness, Savage And Stubborn (the Thought Of It Brings Back All My Old Fears), A Bitter Place! Death Could Scarce Be Bitterer. But If I Would Show The Good That Came Of It I Must Talk About Things Other Than The Good.

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame, And His Desire And All His Life Drift Past Him Like A Dream, And The Traces Of His Memory Fade From Time Like Smoke In Air, Or Ripples On A Stream.

At This High Moment, Ability Failed My Capacity To Describe.

Be As A Tower Firmly Set; Shakes Not Its Top For Any Blast That Blows.

Blessed Are The Peacemakers, For They Have Freed Themselves From Sinful Wrath.

Will Cannot Be Quenched Against Its Will.

Remember Tonight... For It Is The Beginning Of Always.

Clock Is Ticking

Unity In Wills Cannot Be Unless There Is One Will Dominating And Ruling All The Rest To Oneness... Wills Of Mortals Have Need Of A Directive Principle... Therefore For The Well-being Of The World, There Should Be A Monarchy.

Mankind Is At Its Best When It Is Most Free. This Will Be Clear If We Grasp The Principle Of Liberty. We Must Recall That The Basic Principle Is Freedom Of Choice, Which Saying Many Have On Their Lips But Few In Their Minds.

Here We Find The Moat Of Thieves. And Just As A Lizard, With A Quick, Slick Slither, Flicks Across The Highway From Hedge To Hedge, Fleeter Than A Flash, In The Battering Dog-day Weather, A Fiery Little Monster, Livid, In A Rage, Black As Any Peppercorn, Came And Made A Dart At The Guts Of The Others, And Leaping To Engage One Of The Pair, It Pierced Him At The Part Through Which We First Draw Food; Then Loosed Its Grip And Fell Before Him, Outstretched And Apart.

A Man's Renown Is Like The Hue Of Grass, Which Comes And Goes.

He Loves But Little Who Can Say And Count In Words, How Much He Loves.

Through Me You Go Into A City Of Weeping; Through Me You Go Into Eternal Pain; Through Me You Go Amongst The Lost People

The Path To Paradise Begins In Hell.

If You Give People Light, They Will Find Their Own Way.

Through Me The Way Into The Suffering City, Through Me The Way To The Eternal Pain, Through Me The Way That Runs Among The Lost. Justice Urged On My High Artificer; My Maker Was Divine Authority, The Highest Wisdom, And The Primal Love. Before Me Nothing But Eternal Things Were Made, And I Endure Eternally. Abandon Every Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

Through Me You Pass Into The City Of Woe: Through Me You Pass Into Eternal Pain: Through Me Among The People Lost For Aye. Justice The Founder Of My Fabric Moved: To Rear Me Was The Task Of Power Divine, Supremest Wisdom, And Primeval Love. Before Me Things Create Were None, Save Things Eternal, And Eternal I Shall Endure. All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here.

Ah! Justice Of Our God! Who Else Could Stow Such Travails New And Pains As Met My Glance!

The Whole Universe Is But The Footprint Of The Divine Goodness.

Love Insists The Loved Loves Back

Justice Does Not Descend From Its Own Pinnacle.

Love And The Gentle Heart Are But The Same Thing.

One Ought To Be Afraid Of Nothing Other Then Things Possessed Of Power To Do Us Harm, But Things Innoucuous Need Not Be Feared.

Follow Your Own Star!

To Run Over Better Waters The Little Vessel Of My Genius Now Hoists Her Sails, As She Leaves Behind Her A Sea So Cruel.

He Who Awaits The Call, But Sees The Need, Already Sets His Spirit To Refuse It.

He Listens Well Who Takes Notes.

As Fall The Light Autumnal Leaves, One Still The Other Following, Till The Bough Strews All Its Honors On The Earth Below.

Oh Blind! Oh Ignorant, Self-seeking Cupidity Which Spurs Us So In The Short Mortal Life And Steeps Us So Through All Eternity!

Mankind, Why Do Ye Set Your Hearts On Things That, Of Necessity, May Not Be Shared?

Beauty Awakens The Soul To Act.

He Is, Most Of All, L'amor Che Move Il Sole E L'altre Stelle.

Go Right On And Listen As Thou Goest.

I Am Made Of God, Through His Grace. Such That Your Misery Touches Me Not, Nor Does Flame Of That Burning Assail Me.

All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here!

Small Projects Need Much More Help Than Great.

And We Came Forth To Contemplate The Stars.

Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here. [omnes Relinquite Spes, O Vos Intrantes]

From A Little Spark May Burst A Flame.

The Glory Of Him Who Moves Everything Penetrates Through The Universe, And Is Resplendent In One Part More And In Another Less.

No Sorrow Is Deeper Than The Remembrance Of Happiness When In Misery.

There Is No Greater Sorrow Than To Recall Happiness In Times Of Misery.

Lost Are We, And Are Only So Far Punished, That Without Hope We Live On In Desire.

My Soul Tasted That Heavenly Food, Which Gives New Appetite While It Satiates.

There Are Souls Beneath That Water. Fixed In Slimethey Speak Their Piece, End It, And Start Again:'sullen Were We In The Air Made Sweet By The Sun;in The Glory Of His Shining Our Hearts Poureda Bitter Smoke. Sullen Were We Begun;sullen We Lie Forever In This Ditch.'this Litany They Gargle In Their Throatsas If They Sand, But Lacked The Words And Pitch.

Love, That All Gentle Hearts So Quickly Know.

Segui Il Tuo Corso Et Lascia Dir Les Genti. (follow Your Road And Let The People Say).

Love With Delight Discourses In My Mindupon My Lady's Admirable Gifts...beyond The Range Of Human Intellect.

The Day That Man Allows True Love To Appear, Those Things Which Are Well Made Will Fall Into Cofusion And Will Overturn Everything We Believe To Be Right And True.

There Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember, In Our Present Grief, Past Happiness.

I Care Not Where My Body May Take Me As Long As My Soul Is Embarked On A Meaningful Journey.

The Well Heeded Well Heard.

The Human Race Is In The Best Condition When It Has The Greatest Degree Of Liberty.

Love Kindled By Virtue Always Kindles Another, Provided That Its Flame Appear Outwardly.

I Presumed To Fix My Look On The Eternal Light So Long That I Consumed My Sight Thereon.

In Judgement Be Ye Not Too Confident, Even As A Man Who Will Appraise His Corn When Standing In A Field, Ere It Is Ripe.

In The Midway Of This Our Mortal Life, I Found Me In A Gloomy Wood, Astray, Gone From The Path Direct.

O Foolish Anxiety Of Wretched Man, How Inconclusive Are The Arguments Which Make Thee Beat Thy Wings Below!

Eternal Love Made Me.

O Mortal Men, Be Wary Of How Ye Judge.

At The Midpoint On The Journey Of Life, I Found Myself In A Dark Forest, For The Clear Path Was Lost.

I Saw A Point That Shone With Light So Keen, The Eye That Sees It Cannot Bear Its Blazing; The Star That Is For Us The Smallest One Would Seem A Moon If Placed Beside This Point.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.

In His Will, Our Peace.

I Was So Full Of Sleep At The Time That I Left The True Way.

No Man May Be So Cursed By Priest Or Pope But What The Eternal Love May Still Return While Any Thread Of Green Lives On In Hope.

Because There Is No Man Who Can Be True And Just Judge Of Himself, So Much Will Self-love Deceive Him.

The Mouse Had Fallen In With Evil Cats.

L'amor Che Move Il Sole E L'altre Stelle (the Love That Moves The Sun And The Other Stars)

The Infernal Storm, Eternal In Its Rage, Sweeps And Drives The Spirits With Its Blast; It Whirls Them, Lashing Them With Punishment. When They Are Swept Back Past Their Place Of Judgment Then Come The Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries; There They Blaspheme God's Almighty Power.

Do Not Desert Me When I Need You Most. And If We Can't Go On Together, Let's Retrace Our Steps As Quickly As We Can.

There's Not The Least Thing Can Be Said Or Done, But People Will Talk And Find Fault.

In The Middle Of The Journey Of Our Life I Came To Myself Within A Dark Wood Where The Straight Way Was Lost.

What Shall One Do With The Verse, If He Knows Not That?

Curb Your Talent Lest It Speed Where Virtue Does Not Guide.

Give Unto Us This Day The Daily Manna Without Which, In This Desert Where We Dwell, He Must Go Backward Who Would Most Advance.

Love Is The Source Of Every Virtue In You And Of Every Deed Which Deserves Punishment.

But Already My Desire And My Will Were Being Turned Like A Wheel, All At One Speed, By The Love Which Moves The Sun And The Other Stars

The Human Race Finds Itself In A Better Situation When It Has The Higher Level Of Freedom.

Love, That Exempts No One Beloved From Loving, Seized Me With Pleasure Of This Man So Strongly, That, As Thou Seest, It Doth Not Yet Desert Me.

It Is Necessity And Not Pleasure That Compels Us.

The Heaven That Rolls Around Cries Aloud To You While It Displays Its Eternal Beauties, And Yet Your Eyes Are Fixed Upon The Earth Alone.

The Mind Which Is Created Quick To Love, Is Responsive To Everything That Is Pleasing, Soon As By Pleasure It Is Awakened Into Activity. Your Apprehensive Faculty Draws An Impression From A Real Object, And Unfolds It Within You, So That It Makes The Mind Turn Thereto. And If, Being Turned, It Inclines Towards It, That Inclination Is Love; That Is Nature, Which Through Pleasure Is Bound Anew Within You.

Where The Way Is Hardest, There Go Thou; Follow Your Own Path And Let People Talk.

Love Hath So Long Possessed Me For His Own And Made His Lordship So Familiar.

There, Pride, Avarice, And Envy Are The Tongues Men Know And Heed, A Babel Of Depsair

The More Perfect A Thing Is, The More Susceptible To Good And Bad Treatment It Is.

For Where The Instrument Of Intelligence Is Added To Brute Power And Evil Will, Mankind Is Powerless In Its Own Defense.

For She Doth Make My Veins And Pulses Tremble.

As The Geometer Intently Seeks To Square The Circle, But He Cannot Reach, Through Thought On Thought, The Principle He Needs, So I Searched That Strange Sight.

I Found Myself Within A Forest Dark.

Thus You May Understand That Love Alone Is The True Seed Of Every Merit In You, And Of All Acts For Which You Must Atone.

A Backward Glance Can Often Lift The Heart.

All Your Renown Is Like The Summer Flower That Blooms And Dies; Because The Sunny Glow Which Brings It Forth, Soon Slays With Parching Power.

The Wisest Are The Most Annoyed At The Loss Of Time.

Thy Soul Is By Vile Fear Assailed, Which Oft So Overcasts A Man, That He Recoils From Noblest Resolution, Like A Beast At Some False Semblance In The Twilight Gloom.

Be Like A Solid Tower Whose Brave Height Remains Unmoved By All The Winds That Blow; The Man Who Lets His Thoughts Be Turned Aside By One Thing Or Another, Will Lose Sight Of His True Goal, His Mind Sapped Of Its Strength.

If You're Asking For A Date, Forget It. 'cause I Make It A Point Not To Go Out With Women Who Shoot Me In The Head!

The Three Divine Are In This Hierarchy, First The Dominions, And The Virtues Next; And The Third Order Is That Of The Powers. The In The Dances Twain Penultimate The Principalities And Archangels Wheel; The Last Is Wholly Of Angelic Sports. These Orders Upward All Of Them Are Gazing, And Downward So Prevail, That Unto God They All Attracted Are And All Attract.

Because Your Question Searches For Deep Meaning, I Shall Explain In Simple Words

Reason Flies When Following The Senses, On Clipped Wings.

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