So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away, Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, And let our selves benight our happiest day.
When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain.
God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath
Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm.
The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can
Batter my heart, three personed God for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine and seek to mend.
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, but after one such love can love no more.
Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter Love for me But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best To use myself in jest, Thus by feigned deaths to die.
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail
Full nakedness All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys.
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
When I died last, and, Dear, I die as often as from thee I go though it be but an hour ago and lovers hours be full eternity.
Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right, by these we reach divinity.
As he that fears God hears nothing else, so, he that sees God sees every thing else.
Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name.
But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
But I do nothing upon myself, and yet am mine own executioner.
Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant the only harmless great thing.
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.
Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.
Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.
More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
The day breaks not, it is my heart.
Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.