No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.
Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.
Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.
Great sorrows cannot speak.
we give each other a smile with a future in it
ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee
More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
As he that fears God fears nothing else, so he that sees God sees everything else.
All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated....As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all....No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Festive alcohol sometimes leads to an excess of honesty.
I shall not live 'till I see God; and when I have seen Him, I shall never die.
Young men mend not their sight by using old men's spectacles.
Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so.
O Lord, never suffer us to think that we can stand by ourselves, and not need thee.
I shall die reading; since my book and a grave are so near.
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
If I dream I have you, I have you, for all our joys are but fantastical.
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.
Death is an ascension to a better library.
I sing the progress of a deathless soul.
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