No Man Is An Island, Entire Of

No Man Is An Island, Entire Of Itself; Every Man Is A Piece Of The Continent.

Whilst My Physicians By Their Love Are Grown Cosmographers, And I Their Map, Who Lie Flat On This Bed.

As He That Fears God Fears Nothing Else, So He That Sees God Sees Everything Else.

For I Am Every Dead Thing In Whom Love Wrought New Alchemy For His Art Did Express A Quintessence Even From Nothingness, From Dull Privations, And Lean Emptiness He Ruined Me, And I Am Re-begot Of Absence, Darkness, Death; Things Which Are Not.

Nature Hath No Goal Though She Hath Law.