“[He]Spoke and rose to full height, sword in air,Then cleft the man's brow square between the templesCutting his head in two -- a dreadful gashBetween the cheeks all beardless. Earth resoundedQuivering at the great shock of his weightAs he went tumbling down in all his armor,Drenched with blood and brains; in equal halvesHis head hung this and that way from his shoulders.”

“So ran the speech. Burdened and sick at heart,He feigned hope in his look, and inwardlyContained his anguish. […]Aeneas, more than any, secretlyMourned for them all”

“There are twin Gates of Sleep. One, they say, is called the Gate of Horn and it offers easy passage to all true shades. The other glistens with ivory, radiant, flawless, but through it the dead send false dreams up toward the sky. And here Anchises, his vision told in full, escorts his son and Sibyl both and shows them out now through the Ivory Gate.”

“the dank night is sweeping down from the skyand the setting stars incline our heads to sleep.”

“He had no choice. None at all. His kind rarely did.His shoulders slumped in resignation. He hung his head. His will, his pride, gone.”

“Each of us bears his own Hell.”

“There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's.”