God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse; And if no peace of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnet pretty rooms; As well a well wrought urne becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
Festive alcohol sometimes leads to an excess of honesty.
Religion is not a melancholy, the spirit of God is not a damper.
I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.
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.