Who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper softness in chambers?

None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but license.

Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.

Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.

Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.

Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.

Still paying, still to owe. Eternal woe!