If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God; and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.

Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.

Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.

So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.

No man is an island unto himself.