All our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death.

As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.

Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!

Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.

Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.

What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

Enjoyment always has a spoiling, otherwise it cannot be so.