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.

All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.

To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.

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.

Death, thou shalt die.

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

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