Reason Is Our Soul's Left

The Day Breaks Not, It Is My Heart.

Thou Art Slave To Fate, Chance, Kings, And Desperate Men, And Dost With Poison, War, And Sickness Dwell, And Poppy, Or Charms, Can Make Us Sleep As Well, And Better Than Thy Stroke. Why Swell'st Thou Then?

I Am Two Fools, I Know, For Loving, And For Saying So.

There Is Nothing That God Hath Established In A Constant Course Of Nature, And Which Therefore Is Done Every Day, But Would Seem A Miracle, And Exercise Our Admiration, If It Were Done But Once.

A Mathematical Point Is The Most Indivisble And Unique Thing Which Art Can Present.