Death, Thou Shalt Die.

That Soul That Can Reflect Upon Itself, Consider Itself, Is More Than So.

All Other Things To Their Destruction Draw, Only Our Love Hath No Decay.

For Love All Love Of Other Sights Controls And Makes One Little Room An Everywhere

Our Faults Are Not Seen, But Past Us; Neither Felt, But Only In The Punishment.

Solitude Is A Torment Which Is Not Threatened In Hell Itself.