“those cries rose from among the twisted rootsthrough which the spirits of the damned were slinkingto hide from us. Therefore my Master said:'If you break off a twig, what you will learnwill drive what you are thinking from your head.'Puzzled, I raised my hand a bit and slowlybroke off a branchlet from an enormous thorn:and the great trunk of it cried: 'Why do you break me?'And after blood had darkened all the bowlof the wound, it cried again: 'Why do you tear me?Is there no pity left in any soul?Men we were, and now we are changed to sticks;well might your hand have been more mercifulwere we no more than souls of lice and ticks.'As a green branch with one end all aflamewill hiss and sputter sap out of the otheras the air escapes- so from that trunk there camewords and blood together, gout by gout.Startled, I dropped the branch that I was holdingand stood transfixed by fear,...”

“Here sighs and cries and shrieks of lamentation echoed throughout the starless air of Hell;at first these sounds resounding made me weep:tongues confused, a language strained in anguishwith cadences of anger, shrill outcriesand raucous groans that joined with sounds of hands,raising a whirling storm that turns itselfforever through that air of endless black,like grains of sand swirling when a whirlwind blows.And I, in the midst of all this circling horror,began, "Teacher, what are these sounds I hear?What souls are these so overwhelmed by grief?"And he to me: "This wretched state of beingis the fate of those sad souls who lived a lifebut lived it with no blame and with no praise.They are mixed with that repulsive choir of angelsneither faithful nor unfaithful to their God,who undecided stood but for themselves.Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out,but even Hell itself would not receive them,for fear the damned might glory over them."And I. "Master, what torments do they sufferthat force them to lament so bitterly?"He answered: "I will tell you in few words:these wretches have no hope of truly dying,and this blind life they lead is so abjectit makes them envy every other fate.The world will not record their having been there;Heaven's mercy and its justice turn from them.Let's not discuss them; look and pass them by...”

“The broken branch hissed loudly, and then thatwind was converted into these words: "Briefly willyou be answered.When the fierce soul departs from the body fromwhich it has uprooted itself, Minos sends it to theseventh mouth.It falls into the wood, and no place is assigned toit, but where chance hurls it, there it sprouts like agrain of spelt.It grows into a shoot, then a woody plant; theHarpies, feeding on its leaves, give it pain and awindow for the pain.Like the others, we will come for our remains, butnot so that any may put them on again, for it is notjust to have what one has taken from oneself.Here we will drag them, and through the sadwood our corpses will hang, each on the thornbrushof the soul that harmed it.”

“And I — my head oppressed by horror — said:"Master, what is it that I hear? Who arethose people so defeated by their pain?"      And he to me: "This miserable wayis taken by the sorry souls of thosewho lived without disgrace and without praise.      They now commingle with the coward angels,the company of those who were not rebelsnor faithful to their God, but stood apart.      The heavens, that their beauty not be lessened,have cast them out, nor will deep Hell receive them —even the wicked cannot glory in them.”

“Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving,seized me so strongly with his charm that,as you see, it has not left me yet.Love brought us to one death.”

“O you, who in some pretty boat,Eager to listen, have been followingBehind my ship, that singing sails alongTurn back to look again upon your own shores;Tempt not the deep, lest unawares,In losing me, you yourselves might be lost.The sea I sail has never yet been passed;Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo,And Muses nine point out to me the Bears.You other few who have neck upliftedBetimes to the bread of angels upon Which one lives and does not grow sated,Well may you launch your vesselUpon the deep sea.”

“I am the way into the city of woe,I am the way into eternal pain,I am the way to go among the lost.Justice caused my high architect to move,Divine omnipotence created me,The highest wisdom, and the primal love.Before me there were no created thingsBut those that last forever—as do I.Abandon all hope you who enter here.”