O foolish anxiety of wretched man, how inconclusive are the arguments which make thee beat thy wings below!
He who know most grieves most for wasted time.
In each fire there is a spirit; Each one is wrapped in what is burning him.
In that part of the book of my memory before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: โIncipit vita nova: Here begins the new lifeโ.
What shall one do with the verse, if he knows not That?
Love can move the Sun and the stars.