The customs and fashions of men change like leaves on the bough, some of which go and others come.

Consider the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible.

I felt for the tormented whirlwinds Damned for their carnal sins Committed when they let their passions rule their reason.

No sadness is greater than in misery to rehearse memories of joy.

These dwell among the blackest souls,loaded down deep by sins of differing types.If you sink far enough,you'll see them all.

A man's renown is like the hue of grass, Which comes and goes.

There is a place in Hell called the Malebolge.