Where’er she lie,
More quotes by Richard Crashaw
A happy soul, that all the way
To heaven hath a summer’s day.
Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
’Tis love, not years or limbs that can
Make the martyr, or the man.
And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Vnless it be a crime to haue lou'd too well.
You may also like
We may not have chosen the time, but the time has chosen us.
“Destiny,” said John. “The ghastliest word a man can speak.”
Attribution
Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Richard Crashaw (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.