You Shall Leave Everything You Love.

Those Ancients Who In Poetry Presented The Golden Age, Who Sang Its Happy State, Perhaps, In Their Parnassus, Dreamt This Place. Here, Mankind's Root Was Innocent; And Here Were Every Fruit And Never-ending Spring; These Streams--the Nectar Of Which Poets Sing.

The Whole Universe Is But The Footprint Of The Divine Goodness.

No Man May Be So Cursed By Priest Or Pope But What The Eternal Love May Still Return While Any Thread Of Green Lives On In Hope.

Open Your Mind To What I Shall Disclose, And Hold It Fast Within You; He Who Hears, But Does Not Hold What He Has Heard, Learns Nothing. Beatrice - Canto V 40-42

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before Which Little Can Be Read, There Is A Heading, Which Says: ‘incipit Vita Nova: Here Begins The New Life’.