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This miserable way is taken by the sorry souls of those who lived without disgrace and without praise. They now commingle with the coward angels, the company of those who were not rebels nor faithful to their God, but stood apart. The heavens, that their beauty not be lessened, have cast them out, nor will deep Hell receive them - even the wicked cannot glory in them.
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He loves but little who can say and count in words, how much he loves.
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The experience of this sweet life.
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Knowledge comes Of learning well retain'd, unfruitful else.
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Reason flies When following the senses, on clipped wings.
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These have not the hope to die.
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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.
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Like the lark that soars in the air, first singing, then silent, content with the last sweetness that satiates it, such seemed to me that image, the imprint of the Eternal Pleasure.
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O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?
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Midway in our life's journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.
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And we came forth to contemplate the stars.
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I saw within Its depth how It conceives All things in a single volume bound by Love of which the universe is the scattered leaves.
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If i thought i was replying to someone who would every return to the world, this flame would cease it's flickering. But since no one has returned from these depths alive, if what I've heard is true, I will answer you without fear of infamy.
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Perceive ye not that we are worms, designed To form the angelic butterfly, that goes To judgment, leaving all defence behind? Why doth your mind take such exalted pose, Since ye, disabled, are as insects, mean As worm which never transformation knows?
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O power of fantasy that steals our minds from things outside, to leave us unaware, although a thousand trumpets may blow loud--what stirs you if the senses show you nothing? Light stirs you, formed in Heaven, by itself, or by His will Who sends it down to us.
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That with him were, what time the Love Divine.
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Love is the source of every virtue in you and of every deed which deserves punishment.
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He who sees a need and waits to be asked for help is as unkind as if he had refused it.
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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.
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For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense.
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A prayer may chance to rise From one whose heart lives in the grace of God. A prayer from any other is unheeded.
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Consider the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible.
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He whom you see-along the downward arc- was William, and the land that mourns his death, for living Charles and Frederick, now laments; now he has learned how Heaven loves the just ruler, and he would show this outwardly as well, so radiantly visible.
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Ah! Justice of our God! Who else could stow Such travails new and pains as met my glance!