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

To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.

Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

As he that fears God fears nothing else, so he that sees God sees everything else.