Death is an ascension to a better library.
Who knows his virtues name or place, hath none.
Filled with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
Man is not only a contributory creature, but a total creature; he does not only make one, but he is all; he is not a piece of the world, but the world itself, and next to the glory of God, the reason why there is a world.