Nature hath no goal though she hath law.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.

O how feeble is man's power, that if good fortune fall, cannot add another hour, nor a lost hour recall!

This Extasie doth unperplex (We said) and tell us what we love, Wee see by this, it was not sexe, Wee see, we saw not what did move: But as all severall soules contain Mixture of things, they know not what, Love, these mixt souls, doth mixe againe. Loves mysteries in soules doe grow, But yet the body is his booke.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.