There is another man within me that's angry with me.

The service of love is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life, nor is there anything that will more deject his cool'd imagination, when he shall consider what an odd and unworthy piece of folly he hath committed.

Where I cannot satisfy my reason, I love to humour my fancy.

Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.

I would not live over my hours past ... not unto Cicero's ground because I have lived them well, but for fear I should live them worse.

Whosoever enjoys not this life, I count him but an apparition, though he wear about him the sensible affections of flesh. In these moral acceptions, the way to be immortal is to die daily.

Now with my friend I desire not to share or participate, but to engross his sorrows, that, by making them mine own, I may more easily discuss them; for in mine own reason, and within myself, I can command that which I cannot entreat without myself, and within the circle of another.