Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

Through Me You Go Into A City Of Weeping; Through Me You Go Into Eternal Pain; Through Me You Go Amongst The Lost People

Ah! Justice Of Our God! Who Else Could Stow Such Travails New And Pains As Met My Glance!

There's Not The Least Thing Can Be Said Or Done, But People Will Talk And Find Fault.

Will Cannot Be Quenched Against Its Will.

As Little Flowers, Which The Chill Of Night Has Bent And Huddled, When The White Sun Strikes, Grow Straight And Open Fully On Their Stems, So Did I, Too, With My Exhausted Force.