Great Sorrows Cannot Speak.

And Swear No Where Lives A Woman True, And Fair.

Other Men's Crosses Are Not My Crosses.

Poor Intricated Soul! Riddling, Perplexed, Labyrinthical Soul!

The Rich Have No More Of The Kingdom Of Heaven Than They Have Purchased Of The Poor By Their Alms.

For I Am Every Dead Thing In Whom Love Wrought New Alchemy For His Art Did Express A Quintessence Even From Nothingness, From Dull Privations, And Lean Emptiness He Ruined Me, And I Am Re-begot Of Absence, Darkness, Death; Things Which Are Not.