It Is We That Are Blind, Not

The Service Of Love Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life, Nor Is There Anything That Will More Deject His Cool'd Imagination, When He Shall Consider What An Odd And Unworthy Piece Of Folly He Hath Committed.

Where I Cannot Satisfy My Reason, I Love To Humour My Fancy.

Be Able To Be Alone. Lose Not The Advantage Of Solitude.

Festination May Prove Precipitation; Deliberating Delay May Be Wise Cunctation.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.