God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
He that desires to print a book, should much more desire, to be a book.
For love all love of other sights controls and makes one little room an everywhere
That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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.
God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.