Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil

“Die Welt ist nirgends außer diesen Mauern;Nur Fegefeuer, Qual, die Hölle selbst…”

“Who would fardels bear, To groan and sweat under a weary life, But that the dre…”

“Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,Which we ascribe to Heaven.”

“Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?”