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.

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

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

...but come bad chance
And wee joyne to it our strength
And wee teach it art and length
It selfe o'er us to advance.

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven

No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a part of a continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were . . .