Here my powers rest from their high fantasy, but already I could feel my being turned- instinct and intellect balanced equally. as in a wheel whose motion nothing jars- by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.

No man may be so cursed by priest or pope but what the Eternal Love may still return while any thread of green lives on in hope.

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

Hope not ever to see heaven. I come to lead you to the other shore; into the eternal darkness; into fire and ice.

In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.

In that part of the book of my memory before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: ‘Incipit vita nova: Here begins the new life’.

Here let dead poetry rise once more to life.