Without Hope We Live In Desire.

O Faithful Conscience, Delicately Pure, How Doth A Little Failing Wound Thee Sore!

The Wisest Are The Most Annoyed At The Loss Of Time.

The Devil Is Not As Black As He Is Painted.

At The Midpoint On The Journey Of Life, I Found Myself In A Dark Forest, For The Clear Path Was Lost.

The Glory Of Him Who Moves Everything Penetrates Through The Universe, And Is Resplendent In One Part More And In Another Less.