Charles Eliot Norton

There is no greater woe than in misery to remember the happy time

Love, that on gentle heart quickly lays hold, seized him for the fair person that was taken from me, and the mode still hurts me. Love, which absolves no loved one from loving, seized me for the pleasing of him so strongly that, as thou seest, it does not even now abandon me. Love brought us to one death.

You citizens called me Ciacco; [1] for the damnable sin of gluttony, as thou seest, I am broken by the rain.

Two men are just, but there they are not heeded; Pride, Envy, Avarice are the three sparks that have inflamed their hearts."[1]

Already every star sinks that was rising when I set out, and too long stay is forbidden."

In the Parson's Tale Chaucer says: "Envie and ire maken bitternesse in heart, which bitternesse is mother of accidie."

Hell."

We at last arrived within the deep ditches that encompass that disconsolate city. The walls seemed to me to be of iron.

beware how thou enterest, and to whom thou trustest thyself; let not the amplitude of the entrance deceive thee."

beware how thou enterest, and to whom thou trustest thyself; let not the amplitude of the entrance deceive thee.

Love, that on gentle heart quickly lays hold, seized him for the fair person that was taken from me, and the mode still hurts me. Love, which absolves no loved one from loving, seized me for the pleasing of him so strongly that, as thou seest, it does not even now abandon me. Love brought us to one death.