Still desiring, we live without hope.

Pride, envy, avarice - these are the sparks have set on fire the hearts of all men.

In that part of the book of my memory before the which is little that can be read, there is a rubric, saying, Incipit Vita Nova. Under such rubric I find written many things; and among them the words which I purpose to copy into this little book; if not all of them, at the least their substance.

O foolish anxiety of wretched man, how inconclusive are the arguments which make thee beat thy wings below!

They yearn for what they fear for.

Like the lark that soars in the air, first singing, then silent, content with the last sweetness that satiates it, such seemed to me that image, the imprint of the Eternal Pleasure.

Consider that this day ne'er dawns again.