Nature hath no goal though she hath law.

Death is an ascension to a better library.

Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call and invite God and his angels thither.

As soon as there was two there was pride.

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.