All spirits are enslaved which serve things evil

How wonderful is death! Death and his brother sleep.

True love in this differs from gold and clay, that to divide is not to take away. Love is like understanding, that grows bright, gazing on many truths.

It is vain philosophy that supposes more causes than are exactly adequate to explain the phenomena of things.

It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be, Like all the rest, a mockery.

Sometimes The Devil is a gentleman.

Jealousy's eyes are green.