Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth if th' other do. And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Suth wilt thou be to me, who must Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I began.

That subtle knot which makes us man So must pure lovers souls descend T affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies.

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

God is so omnipresent. . . . God is an angel in an angel, and a stone in a stone, and a straw in a straw.

The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.

Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.

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