L'amor Che Move Il Sole

Because There Is No Man Who Can Be True And Just Judge Of Himself, So Much Will Self-love Deceive Him.

O Foolish Anxiety Of Wretched Man, How Inconclusive Are The Arguments Which Make Thee Beat Thy Wings Below!

That With Him Were, What Time The Love Divine

…all Things Created Have An Order In Themselves, And This Begets The Form That Lets The Universe Resemble God.

Midway Along The Journey Of Our Life I Woke To Find Myself In A Dark Wood, For I Had Wandered Off From The Straight Path. How Hard It Is To Tell What It Was Like, This Wood Of Wilderness, Savage And Stubborn (the Thought Of It Brings Back All My Old Fears), A Bitter Place! Death Could Scarce Be Bitterer. But If I Would Show The Good That Came Of It I Must Talk About Things Other Than The Good.