Consider the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible.

There is a place in Hell called the Malebolge.

The more souls who resonate together, the greater the intensity of their love... and, mirror-like... each soul reflects the other.

There is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness.

The customs and fashions of men change like leaves on the bough, some of which go and others come.

Thou shall know by experience how salt the savor is of others' bread, and how sad a path it is to climb and descend another's stairs.

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.