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To run over better waters the little vessel of my genius now hoists her sails, as she leaves behind her a sea so cruel.

Dante Alighieri

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Dante Alighieri
Age: 56 †
Born: 1265
Born: June 6
Died: 1321
Died: September 22
Author
Intellectual
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Political Theorist
Politician
Prosaist
Writer
Florence
Tuscany
Dante
Durante degli Alighieri
Durante di Alighiero degli Alighieri
Genius
Behinds
Sails
Behind
Vessel
Water
Waters
Running
Sail
Littles
Cruel
Better
Leaves
Little
Sea

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I am searching for that which every man seeks-peace and rest.
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I did not die, and yet I lost life’s breath
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I, answering in the end, began: 'Alas, how many yearning thoughts, what great desire, have lead them through such sorrow to their fate?
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If your world isn't right, the cause is in you.
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You can stay and die or you can walk your ugly ass back through that gate. It's your call, pal.
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Go forth and preach impostures to the world, But give them truth to build on.
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But if, as morning rises, dreams are true.
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No man may be so cursed by priest or pope but what the Eternal Love may still return while any thread of green lives on in hope.
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O faithful conscience, delicately pure, how doth a little failing wound thee sore!
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Through me the way into the suffering city, Through me the way to the eternal pain, Through me the way that runs among the lost. Justice urged on my high artificer My maker was divine authority, The highest wisdom, and the primal love. Before me nothing but eternal things were made, And I endure eternally. Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.
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It was the hour of morning, when the sun mounts with those stars that shone with it when God's own love first set in motion those fair things
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. [Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes]
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The greatest gift that God in His bounty made in creation, and the most conformable to His goodness, and that which He prizes the most, was the freedom of will, with which the creatures with intelligence, they all and they alone, were and are endowed.
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Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving, seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly, that, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me.
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Here let dead poetry rise once more to life.
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