A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.
Not one drop of blood is left inside my veins that does not throb: I recognize signs of the ancient flame.
No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here!
All your renown is like the summer flower that blooms and dies; because the sunny glow which brings it forth, soon slays with parching power.
All of nature is God's art.