Per bene star si scende molte miglia. - Petrarch

. . . The senses reign, and reason now is dead;
from one pleasing desire comes another.
Virtue, honor, beauty, gracious bearing,
sweet words have caught me in her lovely branches
in which my heart is tenderly entangled.
In thirteen twenty-seven, and precisely
at the first hour of the sixth of April
I entered the labyrinth, and I see no way out.

I wish to go beyond the fire that burns me.

Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together.