Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.

Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.

For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear each other speak.

O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all; But her thou hast not know; for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.

The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.