To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.
My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
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.
Our faults are not seen, But past us; neither felt, but only in The punishment.
Filled with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.
Chastity is not chastity in an old man, but a disability to be unchaste.