“Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.”

Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan’s beams, which then did glister fair.

The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.

Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.

So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.

Fretting grief the enemy of life.

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

A circle cannot fill a triangle, so neither can the whole world, if it were to be compassed, the heart of man; a man may as easily fill a chest with grace as the heart with gold. The air fills not the body, neither doth money the covetous mind of man.

Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!

Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.

From good to bad, and from bad to worse, From worse unto that is worst of all, And then return to his former fall.

Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Be bold, and everywhere be bold.

Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought.

I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.

The society that will organize production on the basis of a free and equal association of the producers will put the whole machinery of the state where it will then belong: into the museum of antiquities, by the side of the spinning wheel and the bronze axe.

How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?

When someone comes along and expresses him or herself as freely as they think, people flock to it. They enjoy it.

The worst things in life come free to us.

Gay Liberation? I ain’t against it, it’s just that there’s nothing in it for me.

It is the privilege of tale-tellers to open their story in an inn, the free rendezvous of all travellers, and where the humour of each displays itself, without ceremony or restraint.

A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes – and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.

What was freely given to me, I freely give.