I say there is no darkness but ignorance.

Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.

Best men oft are moulded out of faults.

Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.

The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.

A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!

I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.