How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.

Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.

Time is the subtle thief of youth.

Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.

Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good.

He left it in thy power, ordaind thy will By nature free, not over-rul'd by Fate Inextricable, or strict necessity.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.