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.
The day breaks not, it is my heart.
The whole life of Christ was a continual Passion; others die martyrs but Christ was born a martyr. He found a Golgotha even in Bethlehem, where he was born; for to his tenderness then the straws were almost as sharp as the thorns after, and the manger as uneasy at first as his cross at last. His birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas day and his Good Friday are but the evening and morning of one and the same day. And as even his birth is his death, so every action and passage that manifests Christ to us is his birth, for Epiphany is manifestation.
I sing the progress of a deathless soul.
Sleep is pain's easiest salve
I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease.
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
Sleep is pain's easiest salve, and doth fulfil All offices of death, except to kill.
Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
All mankind is one volume. When one man dies, a chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language. And every chapter must be translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice. But God's hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall live open to one another
As soon as there was two there was pride.
I count all that part of my life lost which I spent not in communion with God, or in doing good.
No man is an island unto himself.
The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can.
To be no part of any body, is to be nothing.
A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.
How much shall I be changed, before I am changed!
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov'd?
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: