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Reason is our soul's left hand, Faith her right
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Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
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No man is an Island, entire of itself every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were 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.
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Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove, Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks
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Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
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