Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.

Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.

Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.

Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

Marriage rings are not of this stuff.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

I shall die reading; since my book and a grave are so near.

I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.

Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys.

The world is a great volume, and man the index of that book; even in the body of man, you may turn to the whole world.

I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.

Doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is.

If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do.

Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.

Eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period; and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been.

But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.

O how feeble is man's power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall!

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

No spring nor summer's beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one Autumnal face.