Art, as far as it is able, follows nature, as a pupil imitates his master; thus your art must be, as it were, God's grandchild.
I made my own house be my gallows.
In each fire there is a spirit; Each one is wrapped in what is burning him.
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. [Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes]
The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and likewise pain.
Everywhere is here and every when is now.