Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

Ay, but to die and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstrution and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.

I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come" (Phebe)

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.

In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.

I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-out heresy.