"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,Such shaping fantasies, that apprehendMore than cool reason ever comprehends.The lunatic, the lover and the poetAre of imagination all compact:One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;And as imagination bodies forthThe forms of things unknown, the poet's penTurns them to shapes and gives to airy nothingA local habitation and a name."

“O God! methinks, it were a happy life,To be no better than a homely swain;To sit upon a hill, as I do now,To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,Thereby to see the minutes how they run:How many make the hour full complete,How many hours bring about the day,How many days will finish up the year,How many years a mortal man may live.”

“She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;She is a woman, therefore to be won.”

“Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.”

“Good frend for Jesus sake forbeareTo digg the dust encloased heareBlese be the man that spares these stonesAnd curst be he that moves my bones”

“Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care”

“On a day — alack the day! —Love, whose month is ever May,Spied a blossom passing fairPlaying in the wanton air”