The Wisest Are The Most Annoyed At

There Sighs, Lamentations And Loud Wailings Resounded Through The Starless Air, So That At First It Made Me Weep; Strange Tongues, Horrible Language, Words Of Pain, Tones Of Anger, Voices Loud And Hoarse, And With These The Sound Of Hands, Made A Tumult Which Is Whirling Through That Air Forever Dark, And Sand Eddies In A Whirlwind.

Love, That Exempts No One Beloved From Loving, Seized Me With Pleasure Of This Man So Strongly, That, As Thou Seest, It Doth Not Yet Desert Me.

... Nessun Maggior Dolore Che Ricordarsi Del Tempo Felice Nella Miseria. (there Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember A Happy Time When One Is In Misery.)

That With Him Were, What Time The Love Divine

A Rapid Bolt Will Rend The Clouds Apart, And Every Single White Be Seared By Wounds. I Tell You This. I Want It All To Hurt.