The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.

The world is a great volume, and man the index of that book; even in the body of man, you may turn to the whole world.

All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.

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

Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.

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

We study health, and we deliberate upon our meats and drink and air and exercises, and we hew and we polish every stone that goes to that building; and so our health is a long and regular work. But in a minute a cannon batters all, overthrows all, demolishes all; a sickness unprevented for all our diligence, unsuspected for all our curiosity, nay, undeserved, if we consider only disorder, summons us, seizes us, possesses us, destroys us in an instant.