I made my own house be my gallows.

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

I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightfoward pathway had been lost. Ah me! How hard a thing is to say, what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more.

Do ye not comprehend that we are worms born to bring forth the angelic butterfly that flieth unto judgment without screen?

We have no hope and yet we live in longing.

If your world isn't right, the cause is in you.

They had their faces twisted toward their haunches and found it necessary to walk backward, because they could not see ahead of them. ...And since he wanted so to see ahead, he looks behind and walks a backward path.