At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.
Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
... by indirections find directions out.
We cannot fight for love, as men may do; we shou'd be woo'd, and were not made to woo
Life's uncertain voyage.
I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.