Ruthless Striving, Overcomes Everything.

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

I Desire That Death Find Me Ready And Writing, Or If It Please Christ, Praying And Intears.

To Be Able To Say How Much Love, Is Love But Little.

Hitherto Your Eyes Have Been Darkened And You Have Looked Too Much, Yes, Far Too Much, Upon The Things Of Earth. If These So Much Delight You What Shall Be Your Rapture When You Lift Your Gaze To Things Eternal!

Death Is A Sleep That Ends Our Dreaming. Oh, That We May Be Allowed To Wake Before Death Wakes Us.