I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov'd?
To be no part of any body, is to be nothing.
Death is an ascension to a better library.
God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.