Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.

For love all love of other sights controls and makes one little room an everywhere

I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run; The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure; Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure; Time shall not lose our passages.

All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated....As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all....No man is an island, entire of itself...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.

Enjoyment always has a spoiling, otherwise it cannot be so.

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.