Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; We may our ends by our beginnings know.
Search not to find things too deeply hid; Nor try to know things whose knowledge is forbid.
Nor ought a genius less than his that writ attempt translation.
We are never like angels till our passion dies.
Poetry is of so subtle a spirit, that in the pouring out of one language into another it will evaporate.
Books should to one of these fours ends conduce, for wisdom, piety, delight, or use.
