The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

...Whatever dies was not mixed equally, If our two loves be one Or thou and I love so alike That none can slacken, none can die.

My love though silly is more brave.

When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.

Eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period.

I count all that part of my life lost which I spent not in communion with God, or in doing good.