Abandon Every Hope, You Who Enter.

We Are But A Day In This World, And In That Day The Fashion Is Changed A Thousand Times: All Seek Liberty, Yet All Deprive Themselves Of It.

Nothing Which Is Harmonized By The Bond Of The Muse Can Be Changed From Its Own To Another Language Without Destroying Its Sweetness

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.

This Mountain Is So Formed That It Is Always Wearisome When One Begins The Ascent, But Becomes Easier The Higher One Climbs.

I Made My Own House Be My Gallows.