Licence My Roving Hands, And Let Them

Only Our Love Hath No Decay; This, No Tomorrow Hath, Nor Yesterday, Running It Never Runs From Us Away, But Truly Keeps His First, Last, Everlasting Day.

Nature's Lay Idiot, I Taught Thee To Love.

Sleep With Clean Hands, Either Kept Clean All Day By Integrity Or Washed Clean At Night By Repentance.

Any Man's Death Diminishes Me, Because I Am Involved In Mankind; And Therefore Never Send To Know For Whom The Bell Tolls; It Tolls For Thee.

Affliction Is A Treasure, And Scarce Any Man Hath Enough Of It.