Three Things Remain With Us From Paradise:

In Each Fire There Is A Spirit; Each One Is Wrapped In What Is Burning Him.

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

How Come I Never Meet Any Nice Girls?

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.

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.