Other men's crosses are not my crosses.

Doth not a man die even in his birth? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a breaking of prison?

Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun; Thyself from thine affection Takest warmth enough, and from thine eye All lesser birds will take their jollity. Up, up, fair bride, and call Thy stars from out their several boxes, take Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make Thyself a constellation of them all; And by their blazing signify That a great princess falls, but doth not die. Be thou a new star, that to us portends Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.

Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.

I would not that death should take me asleep. I would not have him merely seize me, and only declare me to be dead, but win me, and overcome me. When I must shipwreck, I would do it in a sea, where mine impotency might have some excuse; not in a sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so much as exercise for my swimming.