Aforismi in lingua originale - The ballad of the white horse, Do you have joy without a cause, yea, faith without a hope

the wise men know all evil things Under the twisted trees, Where the perverse in pleasure pine and men are weary of green wine and sick of crimson seas. But you and all the kind of Christ are ignorant and brave, and you have wars you hardly win

and souls you hardly save. I tell you naught for your comfort, yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet and the sea rises higher. Night shall be thrice night over you, and heaven an iron cope. Do you have joy without a cause, yea, faith without a hope?”

G.K. CHESTERTON - THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE