The Greater Part Performed Achieves The Less.

Love Is A Child That Talks In Broken Language, Yet Then He Speaks Most Plain.

Sure There's Contagion In The Tears Of Friends.

Mere Poets Are Sottish As Mere Drunkards Are, Who Live In A Continual Mist, Without Seeing Or Judging Anything Clearly. A Man Should Be Learned In Several Sciences, And Should Have A Reasonable, Philosophical And In Some Measure A Mathematical Head, To Be A Complete And Excellent Poet.

So Softly Death Succeeded Life In Her, She Did But Dream Of Heaven, And She Was There.

My Right Eye Itches, Some Good Luck Is Near.