No One Thinks Of How Much Blood

As The Geometer Intently Seeks To Square The Circle, But He Cannot Reach, Through Thought On Thought, The Principle He Needs, So I Searched That Strange Sight.

There Is A Place In Hell Called The Malebolge.

To Course Across More Kindly Waters Now My Talent's Little Vessel Lifts Her Sails, Leaving Behind Herself A Sea So Cruel; And What I Sing Will Be That Second Kingdom, In Which The Human Soul Is Cleansed Of Sin, Becoming Worthy Of Ascent To Heaven.

Fame Is Not Won On Downy Plumes Nor Under Canopies; The Man Who Consumes His Days Without Obtaining It Leaves Such Mark Of Himself On Earth As Smoke In Air Or Foam On Water.

All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here!