Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young. - John Webster

Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth, weeping:
Their life, a general mist of error,
Their death, a hideous storm of terror.

Heaven-gates are not so highly arched
As princes' palaces; they that enter there
Must go upon their knees.

'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,—the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.