I found myself within a forest dark.

There are souls beneath that water. Fixed in slimethey speak their piece, end it, and start again:'Sullen were we in the air made sweet by the Sun;in the glory of his shining our hearts poureda bitter smoke. Sullen were we begun;sullen we lie forever in this ditch.'This litany they gargle in their throatsas if they sand, but lacked the words and pitch.

No sorrow is deeper than the remembrance of happiness when in misery.

As, pricked out with less and greater lights, between the poles of the universe, the Milky Way so gleameth white as to set very sages questioning.

Seldom indeed does human virtue rise From trunk to branch.

Everywhere is here and every when is now.

We have no hope and yet we live in longing.