My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.
Do not they bring it to pass by knowing that they know nothing at all?
Can a faith that does nothing be called sincere?
Hell, covering all with its gloomy vapors, has cast shadows on even the holiest eyes.
Small crimes always precedes great ones.
I felt for my crime a just terror; I looked on my life with hate, and my passion with horror.