This miserable state is borne by the wretched souls of those who lived without disgrace and without praise.
Let us not speak of them; but look, and pass on.
Midway along the journey of our life [Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita] I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off from the straight path.
There is no greater sorrow than to recall a happy time in the midst of wretchedness.
O conscience, upright and stainless, how bitter a sting to thee is a little fault!
Honor the greatest poet.