To die is landing on some distant shore.
Repentance is but want of power to sin.
The World to Bacon does not only owe it's present knowledge, but its future too.
What judgment I had increases rather than diminishes; and thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me, that my only difficulty is to choose or reject; to run them into verse or to give them the other harmony of prose.
Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.
I am devilishly afraid, that's certain; but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.