Fate's Arrow, When Expected, Travels Slow.

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

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

As One Who Sees In Dreams And Wakes To Find The Emotional Impression Of His Vision Still Powerful While Its Parts Fade From His Mind - Just Such Am I, Having Lost Nearly All The Vision Itself, While In My Heart I Feel The Sweetness Of It Yet Distill And Fall.

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

E Quindi Uscimmo A Riveder Le Stelle" ("and Thence We Came Forth To See Again The Stars")