To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.

As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.

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

We love and understand talent; we wish it be within us. The truly gifted, those exceptional few, must wait for the world to catch up.

What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

Friends are ourselves.

God made sun and moon to distinguish the seasons, and day and night; and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons. But God hath made no decrees to distinguish the seasons of His mercies. In Paradise the fruits were ripe the first minute, and in heaven it is always autumn. His mercies are ever in their maturity.