Dante Alighieri

Put off this sloth,' the master said, 'for shame!Sitting on feather-pillows, lying reclined Beneath the blanket is no way to fame -Fame, without which man's life wastes out of mind, Leaving on earth no more memorialThan foam in water or smoke upon the wind

Fate's arrow, when expected, travels slow.

If you, free as you are of every weighthad stayed below, then that would be as strangeas living flame on earth remaining still."And then she turned her gaze up toward the heavens.

For certain he hath seen all perfectnessFor certain he hath seen all perfectness. Who among other ladies hath seen mine: They that go with her humbly should combine To thank their God for such peculiar grace. So perfect is the beauty of her face That it begets in no wise any sign Of envy, but draws round her a clear line Of love, and blessed faith, and gentleness. Merely the sight of her inakes all things bow: Not she herself alone is holier Than all: but hers, through her, are raised above. From all her acts such lovely graces flow That truly one may never think of her Without a passion of exceeding love.

This is Nimrod, because of whose vile plan the world no longer speaks a single tongue.

I, answering in the end, began: 'Alas,how many yearning thoughts, what great desire,have lead them through such sorrow to their fate?

There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.

Here sighs and cries and shrieks of lamentation echoed throughout the starless air of Hell;at first these sounds resounding made me weep:tongues confused, a language strained in anguishwith cadences of anger, shrill outcriesand raucous groans that joined with sounds of hands,raising a whirling storm that turns itselfforever through that air of endless black,like grains of sand swirling when a whirlwind blows.And I, in the midst of all this circling horror,began, "Teacher, what are these sounds I hear?What souls are these so overwhelmed by grief?"And he to me: "This wretched state of beingis the fate of those sad souls who lived a lifebut lived it with no blame and with no praise.They are mixed with that repulsive choir of angelsneither faithful nor unfaithful to their God,who undecided stood but for themselves.Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out,but even Hell itself would not receive them,for fear the damned might glory over them."And I. "Master, what torments do they sufferthat force them to lament so bitterly?"He answered: "I will tell you in few words:these wretches have no hope of truly dying,and this blind life they lead is so abjectit makes them envy every other fate.The world will not record their having been there;Heaven's mercy and its justice turn from them.Let's not discuss them; look and pass them by...

And what will bow your shoulders downwill be the vicious and worthless company with whom you will fall into this abyss.

The wisest are the most annoyed at the loss of time.

When you are nearer, you will understand how much your eyesight is deceived by distance. Therefore, push yourself a little harder.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall our time of joy in wretchedness.

_I am left with lessthan one drop of my blood that does not tremble.I recognize the the signs of the old flame.

Within her presence, I had once been usedto feeling__rembling__onder, dissolution;but that was long ago. Still, though my soul,now she was veiled, could not see her directly,by way of hidden force that she could move,I felt the mighty power of old love.

I felt for the tormented whirlwindsDamned for their carnal sinsCommitted when they let their passions rule their reason.

Oh human creatures, born to soar aloft,Why fall ye thus before a little wind?

The wish to hear such baseness is degrading.

Behave like men, and not like witless sheep...