All occasions invite His mercies, and all times are His seasons.
...Whatever dies was not mixed equally, If our two loves be one Or thou and I love so alike That none can slacken, none can die.
This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
Poetry is a counterfeit creation, and makes things that are not, as though they were
Great sorrows cannot speak.
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.