This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.

I do not love a man, except I hate his vices, because those vices are the enemies, and the destruction of that friend whom I love.

For love all love of other sights controls and makes one little room an everywhere

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.

Between these two, the denying of sins, which we have done, and the bragging of sins, which we have not done, what a space, what a compass is there, for millions of millions of sins!

Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.

Great sorrows cannot speak.