A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.

As the geometer intently seeks to square the circle, but he cannot reach, through thought on thought, the principle he needs, so I searched that strange sight.

But already my desire and my will were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, by the Love which moves the sun and the other stars

The more perfect a thing is, the more susceptible to good and bad treatment it is.

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.

I was so full of sleep at the time that I left the true way.

Still desiring, we live without hope.