“And he that strives to touch the stars Oft stumbles at a straw.”

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

Who would ever care to do brave deed, Or strive in virtue others to excel, If none should yield him his deserved meed Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.

Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.

The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.

But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.

For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.

Sluggish idleness–the nurse of sin.

Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love’s delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.

For we by conquest, of our soveraine might,And by eternall doome of Fate’s decree,Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright.

Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.

Laws ought to be fashioned unto the manners and conditions of the people whom they are meant to benefit, and not imposed upon them according to the simple rule of right.

To be wise and eke to love, Is granted scarce to gods above.

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.

Me seems the world is run quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed source,And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse.

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

Every fall is a chance to rise.

If any such lover be in earth which is continually kept from falling, I know it not: for it was not shewed me. But this was shewed: that in falling and in rising we are ever preciously kept in one Love.

Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end – tonight’s moon.

In God’s sight we do not fall: in our own we do not stand.

Every fall is a chance to rise.

It is only necessary to know that love is a direction and not a state of the soul. If one is unaware of this, one falls to despair at the first onslaught of affliction.

I’ve learned that it’s OK to be flawed, that life can be messy, that some days you glide and some days you fall, but most important, that there are no secret answers out there.

I hear the rain fall and suddenly I don’t feel so alone because the sky is crying too.