Thy soul is by vile fear assailed, which oft so overcasts a man, that he recoils from noblest resolution, like a beast at some false semblance in the twilight gloom.

Reason flies When following the senses, on clipped wings.

A backward glance can often lift the heart.

Because there is no man who can be true and just judge of himself, so much will self-love deceive him.

The mouse had fallen in with evil cats.

Give unto us this day the daily manna Without which, in this desert where we dwell, He must go backward who would most advance.

I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightfoward pathway had been lost. Ah me! How hard a thing is to say, what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more.