This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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.
How imperfect is all our knowledge!
. . . Change is the nursery Of musicke, joy, life and eternity.
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.
Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.
Only our love hath no decay; this, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday, running it never runs from us away, but truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can.
Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.
Keep us, Lord, so awake in the duties of our calling that we may sleep in thy peace and wake in thy glory.
Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
The Psalms foretell what I, what any shall do and suffer and say.
Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
There is nothing that God hath established in a constant course of nature, and which therefore is done every day, but would seem a Miracle, and exercise our admiration, if it were done but once.
As God loves a cheerful giver, so he also loves a cheerful taker. Who takes hold of his gifts with a glad heart.
Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.
I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.
Who knows his virtues name or place, hath none.
God made sun and moon to distinguish the seasons, and day and night; and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons. But God hath made no decrees to distinguish the seasons of His mercies. In Paradise the fruits were ripe the first minute, and in heaven it is always autumn. His mercies are ever in their maturity.
Thy face is mine eye, and mine is thine.
Goe and catche a falling starre, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me, where all past yeares are, Or who cleft the Divel's foot. Teach me to hear Mermaides' singing, Or to keep of envies stinging, And finde What winde Serves to advance an honest minde.
Friends are ourselves.
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