And when a whirl-winde hath blowne the dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and man sweeps out the dust of the Church into the Church-yard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble flower, and this the yeomanly, this the Plebian bran.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!

In heaven it is always autumn.

He that desires to print a book, should much more desire, to be a book.

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.

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.