He Who Know Most Grieves Most For

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.

Without Hope We Live In Desire.

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

The Path To Paradise Begins In Hell.

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