The Customs And Fashions Of

Three Sparks - Pride, Envy, And Avarice - Have Been Kindled In All Hearts.

O You Proud Christians, Wretched Souls And Small,/ Who By The Dim Lights Of Your Twisted Minds/ Believe You Prosper Even As You Fall,/ Can You Not See That We Are Worms, Each One/ Born To Become The Angelic Butterfly/ That Flies Defenseless To The Judgement Throne?

Here Pity Only Lives When It Is Dead - Virgil

There Is A Place In Hell Called The Malebolge.

Be Like A Solid Tower Whose Brave Height Remains Unmoved By All The Winds That Blow; The Man Who Lets His Thoughts Be Turned Aside By One Thing Or Another, Will Lose Sight Of His True Goal, His Mind Sapped Of Its Strength.