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

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

Men have conceived a twofold use of sleep; it is a refreshing of the body in this life, and a preparing of the soul for the next.

Now God comes to thee, not as in the dawning of the day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the sun at noon to illustrate all shadows, as the sheaves in harvest, to fill all penuries, all occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons.

Women are like the arts, forced unto none, Open to all searchers, unprized, if unknown.

I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.

Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.