To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
At most, the greatest persons are but great wens, and excrescences; men of wit and delightful conversation, but as morals for ornament, except they be so incorporated into the body of the world that they contribute something to the sustentation of the whole.
I neglect God and his angles for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.
Though truth and falsehood be Near twins, yet truth a little elder is.
Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it and made fit for God.
But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.
In best understandings, sin began, Angels sinned first, then Devils, and then Man.
True and false fears let us refrain, Let us love nobly, and live, and add again Years and years unto years, till we attain To write threescore ; this is the second of our reign.
And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.
The difference between the reason of man and the instinct of the beast is this, that the beast does but know, but the man knows that he knows.
I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
That subtle knot which makes us man So must pure lovers souls descend T affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies.
What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?
And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls **** All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God; and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.
Can there be worse sickness, than to know that we are never well, nor can be so?
There is no health; physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
Enjoyment always has a spoiling, otherwise it cannot be so.
As peace is of all goodness, so war is an emblem, a hieroglyphic, of all misery.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run; The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure; Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure; Time shall not lose our passages.
We are all conceived in close prison; in our mothers wombs, we are close prisoners all; when we are born, we are born but to the liberty of the house; prisoners still, though within larger walls; and then all our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: