I neglect God and his angles for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.

The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.

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

If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

Since you would save none of me, I bury some of you.

Doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is.

Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.