The dank night is sweeping down from the sky and the setting stars incline our heads to sleep.

— Virgil

The signs of the old flame, I know them well. I pray that the earth gape deep enough to take me donor the almighty Father blast me with one bolt to the shades, the pale, glimmering shades in hell, the pit of night, before I dishonor you, my conscience, break your laws.

— Virgil