For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense.

Your fame is as the grass, whose hue comes and goes, and His might withers it by whose power it sprang from the lap of the earth.

Honor is the greatest poet.

I love to doubt as well as know.

In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.

Heaven wheels above you, displaying to you her eternal glories, and still your eyes are on the ground.

I wept not — so to stone I grew within.