Poetry is a counterfeit creation, and makes things that are not, as though they were

Filled with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.

Great sins are great possessions; but levities and vanities possess us too; and men had rather part with Christ than with any possession.

The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.

As peace is of all goodness, so war is an emblem, a hieroglyphic, of all misery.

Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it and made fit for God.

O Lord, never suffer us to think that we can stand by ourselves, and not need thee.