Young Men Mend Not Their

Love, All Alike, No Season Knows, Nor Clime, Nor Hours, Days, Months, Which Are The Rags Of Time.

Tis True, 'tis Day; What Though It Be? O Wilt Thou Therefore Rise From Me? Why Should We Rise, Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down, Because 'twas Night? Love Which In Spite Of Darkness Brought Us Hither Should In Despite Of Light Keep Us Together.

God Employs Several Translators; Some Pieces Are Translated By Age, Some By Sickness, Some By War, Some By Justice.

...whatever Dies Was Not Mixed Equally, If Our Two Loves Be One Or Thou And I Love So Alike That None Can Slacken, None Can Die.

Contemplative And Bookish Men Must Of Necessity Be More Quarrelsome Than Others, Because They Contend Not About Matter Of Fact, Nor Can Determine Their Controversies By Any Certain Witnesses, Nor Judges. But As Long As They Go Towards Peace, That Is Truth, It Is No Matter Which Way.