Lost are we, and are only so far punished, That without hope we live on in desire.
Will cannot be quenched against its will.
I am made of God, through his Grace. Such that your misery touches me not, Nor does flame of that burning assail me.
Consider your origins: you were not made to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.
Fate's arrow, when expected, travels slow.
As one who sees in dreams and wakes to find the emotional impression of his vision still powerful while its parts fade from his mind - Just such am I, having lost nearly all the vision itself, while in my heart I feel the sweetness of it yet distill and fall.