What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.
Much rain wears the marble.
Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.