Consider this small dust, here in the glass,
By atoms moved:
Could you believe that this the body was
Of one that loved;
And in his mistress' flame playing like a fly,
Was turned to cinders by her eye:
Yes; and in death, as life unblessed,
To have it expressed,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
- Lost Love Poem
by Ben Jonson
Love is like an hourglass,
with the heart filling up
as the brain empties.
- Jules Renard
To speak and to speak well,
are two things. A fool may talk,
but a wise man speaks.
- Ben Jonson