What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men. That which can be made explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.

First thought is best in Art, second in other matters.

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.

To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.

Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.

What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be, and is productive of the most dreadful consequences to those to whom it seems to be, even of torments, despair, eternal death.

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')