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.
Dante AlighieriO power of fantasy that steals our minds from things outside, to leave us unaware, although a thousand trumpets may blow loud--what stirs you if the senses show you nothing? Light stirs you, formed in Heaven, by itself, or by His will Who sends it down to us.
Dante AlighieriTo run over better waters the little vessel of my genius now hoists her sails, as she leaves behind her a sea so cruel.
Dante Alighieri