O you proud Christians, wretched souls and small,/ Who by the dim lights of your twisted minds/ Believe you prosper even as you fall,/ Can you not see that we are worms, each one/ Born to become the angelic butterfly/ That flies defenseless to the Judgement Throne?

There is a place in Hell called the Malebolge.

O you proud Christians, wretched souls and small,/ Who by the dim lights of your twisted minds/ Believe you prosper even as you fall,/ Can you not see that we are worms, each one/ Born to become the angelic butterfly/ That flies defenseless to the Judgement Throne?

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

I presumed to fix my look on the eternal light so long that I consumed my sight thereon.

Thus you may understand that love alone is the true seed of every merit in you, and of all acts for which you must atone.

Pure essence, and pure matter, and the two joined into one were shot forth without flaw, like three bright arrows from a three-string bow.