In this place piety lives where pity is dead.
A light there is in the beyond which makes the Creator visible to the creature, who only in beholding Him finds peace.
Amor, ch’a nullo amato amar perdona.
Let us go, for the length of our journey demands it.
And just as he who unwills what he wills and shifts what he intends to seek new ends so that he’s drawn from what he had begun, so was I in the midst of that dark land, because, with all my thinking, I annulled the task I had so quickly undertaken.
I have set foot in that region of life where it is not possible to go with any more intention of returning.
Our powers, whether of mind or tongue, cannot embrace that measure of understanding.
Through me is the way into the doleful city; through me the way into the eternal pain; through me the way among the people lost. Justice moved my High Maker; Divine Power made me, Wisdom Supreme, and Primal Love. Before me were no things created, but eternal; and eternal I endure: leave all hope, ye that enter.
Noble demands, by right, deserve the consequence of silent deeds.
Only as a man surrenders himself to Devine Love may he hope for salvation, and salvation is open to all who surrender themselves.
Master,” I said, “when the great clarion fades into the voice of thundering Omniscience, what of these agonies? Will they be the same, or more, or less, after the final sentence?
The writer, having lost his way in a gloomy forest, and being hindered by certain wild beasts from ascending a mountain, is met by Virgil, who promises to show him the punishments of Hell, and afterwards of Purgatory; and that he shall then be conducted by Beatrice into Paradise. He follows the Roman Poet.
Turn around, and keep your eyes closed shut, For if the Gorgon, Medusa, does appear, and you see her, You would never be able to return upward.
The more perfect a thing the more it feels good and evil.
E chi avesse voluto conoscere Amore, fare lo potea mirando lo tremare de li occhi miei.
So what brings you to this killing pickle?
My senses down, when the true.
There is no greater sorrow... than to be mindful of the happy time.
He tells his reader that writings should be expounded in four senses. The first.
You learn by trying, making mistakes, correcting and trying again and again until your reach the desired goal, which is rarely without effort, but is rather a reward for hard work.