How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.

And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book; who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.

Where shame is, there is also fear.

Danger will wink on opportunity.

It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.

The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.