Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls;

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve, And Doth Fulfil All Offices Of Death, Except To Kill.

Die Not, Poore Death, Nor Yet Canst Thou Kill Me.

I Would Not That Death Should Take Me Asleep. I Would Not Have Him Merely Seize Me, And Only Declare Me To Be Dead, But Win Me, And Overcome Me. When I Must Shipwreck, I Would Do It In A Sea, Where Mine Impotency Might Have Some Excuse; Not In A Sullen Weedy Lake, Where I Could Not Have So Much As Exercise For My Swimming.

All Whom War, Dearth, Age, Agues, Tyrannies, Despair, Law, Chance, Hath Slain.

...whatever Dies Was Not Mixed Equally, If Our Two Loves Be One Or Thou And I Love So Alike That None Can Slacken, None Can Die.