O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.

a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief

Good reasons must of force give place to better.

Sweet are the uses of adversity

Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.

Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Love`s reason`s without reason