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.

The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.

For I am every dead thing In whom love wrought new alchemy For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness He ruined me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not.

Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.

God affords no man the comfort, the false comfort of Atheism: He will not allow a pretending Atheist the power to flatter himself, so far, as to seriously think there is no God.

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

As peace is of all goodness, so war is an emblem, a hieroglyphic, of all misery.