Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people.

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Now you know how much my love for you burns deep in me when I forget about our emptiness, and deal with shadows as with solid things.

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Blessed are the peacemakers, For they have freed themselves from sinful wrath.

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There is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness.

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No sorrow is deeper than the remembrance of happiness when in misery.

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A fight every now and again does make life more interesting. Don’t ya think?

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At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

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But if, as morning rises, dreams are true.

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O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?

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Justice divine has weighed: the doom is clear. All hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here.

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