Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my knees, a noise in my ear, a light in my eye, an anything, a nothing, a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayers.

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.

As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov'd?

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.

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

Doth not a man die even in his birth? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a breaking of prison?