Let him have the key of thy heart, who hath the lock of his own.
To me avarice seems not so much a vice as a deplorable piece of madness.
The discourses of the table among true loving friends are held in strict silence.
He that unburied lies wants not his hearse, For unto him a tomb's the Universe.
I love to lose myself in a mystery to pursue my reason to an O altitudo.
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.