I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.

If ever (as that ever may be near) you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, then shall you know the wounds invisible that love's keen, arrows make.

Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.

I'll note you in my book of memory.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.