In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.

Where no hope is left, is left no fear.

Biochemically, love is just like eating large amounts of chocolate.

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.

All hell broke loose.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.

Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.