Die Not, Poore Death, Nor Yet Canst

So In A Voice, So In A Shapeless Flame, Angels Affect Us Often.

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.

Whoever Loves, If He Do Not Propose The Right True End Of Love, He's One That Goes To Sea For Nothing But To Make Him Sick.

This Only Is Charity, To Do All, All That We Can.

For God's Sake Hold Your Tongue, And Let Me Love.