To an incompetent judge I must not lie, but I may be silent; to a competent I must answer.

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; For, thus friends absent speak.

All our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death.

Being got it [love] is a treasure sweet, Which to defend, is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, For though 'tis got by chance, 'tis kept by art.

I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so.

Love all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

Love is a growing, or full constant light; And his first minute, after noon, is night.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, Nor hours, age, months, which are the rags of time.

Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?