What if this present were the world's last night?
Death, thou shalt die.
O how feeble is man's power, that if good fortune fall, cannot add another hour, nor a lost hour recall!
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.
More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.