Tis you, alone, can save, or give my doom.

It is the poor man who'll ever count his flock.

Many women long for what eludes them, and like not what is offered them.

I am dragged along by a strange new force. Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.

I attempt an arduous task but there is no worth in that which is not a difficult achievement

Love is a thing full of anxious fears.

Let me tell you I am better acquainted with you for a long absence, as men are with themselves for a long affliction: absence does but hold off a friend, to make one see him the truer.