Reason Flies When Following The Senses, On

There Is No Greater Sorrow Than To Recall Happiness In Times Of Misery.

Love, That Exempts No One Beloved From Loving, Seized Me With Pleasure Of This Man So Strongly, That, As Thou Seest, It Doth Not Yet Desert Me.

There Is In Hell A Place Stone-built Throughout, Called Malebolge, Of An Iron Hue, Like To The Wall That Circles It About.

The Heaven That Rolls Around Cries Aloud To You While It Displays Its Eternal Beauties, And Yet Your Eyes Are Fixed Upon The Earth Alone.

Doubting Pleases Me No Less Than Knowing