We Have No Hope And

Not One Drop Of Blood Is Left Inside My Veins That Does Not Throb: I Recognize Signs Of The Ancient Flame.

No Sadness Is Greater Than In Misery To Rehearse Memories Of Joy.

He Loves But Little Who Can Say And Count In Words, How Much He Loves.

They Had Their Faces Twisted Toward Their Haunches And Found It Necessary To Walk Backward, Because They Could Not See Ahead Of Them. ...and Since He Wanted So To See Ahead, He Looks Behind And Walks A Backward Path.

Through Me You Go Into A City Of Weeping; Through Me You Go Into Eternal Pain; Through Me You Go Amongst The Lost People