“I sing the progress of a deathless soul.”

If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.

In heaven it is always autumn.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.

How imperfect is all our knowledge!

As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.

Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Love is strong as death; but nothing else is as strong as either; and both, love and death, met in Christ. How strong and powerful upon you, then, should that instruction be, that comes to you from both these, the love and death of Jesus Christ!

When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.

Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life.

Be thine own palace, or the world’s thy jail.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.