Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.

Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.

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

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

In the first minute that my soul is infused, the Image of God is imprinted in my soul; so forward is God in my behalf, and so early does he visit me.

True and false fears let us refrain, Let us love nobly, and live, and add again Years and years unto years, till we attain To write threescore ; this is the second of our reign.

Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.