But the stars that marked our starting fall away. We must go deeper into greater pain, for it is not permitted that we stay.
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.
Because there is no man who can be true and just judge of himself, so much will self-love deceive him.
Love, that all gentle hearts so quickly know.
Still desiring, we live without hope.
Seldom indeed does human virtue rise From trunk to branch.