That which had pleased me once, troubled by spirit.
He loves but little who can say and count in words, how much he loves.
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.
Consider the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible.
He is, most of all, l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.
From a little spark may burst a flame.