He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God; He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.
Great sorrows cannot speak.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
How much shall I be changed, before I am changed!
Reason is our soul's left hand, Faith her right, By these we reach divinity
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.