All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.

What joy is better than the news of friends?

What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.

A man in armor is his armor's slave.

When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

Truth never hurts the teller.