Of My Sowing Such Straw I Reap.

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.

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

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

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

Less Shame A Greater Fault Would Palliate.