For The World, I Count

There Is Surely A Piece Of Divinity In Us, Something Was Before The Elements, And Owes No Homage Unto The Sun.

The Service Of Love Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life, Nor Is There Anything That Will More Deject His Cool'd Imagination, When He Shall Consider What An Odd And Unworthy Piece Of Folly He Hath Committed.

He Who Must Needs Have Company, Must Needs Have Sometimes Bad Company.

And Surely, He That Hath Taken The True Altitude Of Things, And Rightly Calculated The Degenerate State Of This Age, Is Not Like To Envy Those That Shall Live In The Next, Much Less Three Or Four Hundred Years Hence, When No Man Can Comfortably Imagine What Face This World Will Carry.

Do The Devils Lie? No; For Then Even Hell Could Not Subsist.