Pleasure Is None, If Not Diversified.

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

That Thou Remember Them, Some Claim As Debt; I Think It Mercy, If Thou Wilt Forget.

To Know And Feel All This And Not Have The Words To Express It Makes A Human A Grave Of His Own Thoughts.

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

Yesternight The Sun Went Hence, And Yet Is Here Today.