Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.

I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call and invite God and his angels thither.

But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.

All occasions invite His mercies, and all times are His seasons.

I shall die reading; since my book and a grave are so near.

The Psalms foretell what I, what any shall do and suffer and say.