O goddess-born of great Anchises’ line,
The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labour lies.

Do the gods light this fire in our hearts or does each man's mad desire become his god?

To what crime do you not drive the hearts of men, accursed hunger for gold?

Friend, have the courage
To care little for wealth, and shape yourself, 
You too, to merit godhead.

What good are prayers and shrines to a person mad with love?

Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?

Through pain I've learned to comfort suffering 

Now, whoever has courage and a strong and collected spirit in his breast, let him come forward, lace on the gloves and put up his hands.

Through chances various, through all vicissitudes, we make our way…