One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death thou shalt die.

No man is an Island, entire of himself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main.

Christ beats his drum, but he does not press men; Christ is served with voluntaries.

Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasure prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

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.

Reason is our Soul's left hand, Faith her right, By these we reach divinity.

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

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face.

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