28 Quotes by Richard Crashaw

A pillow for thee will I bring,Stuffed with down of angel's wing.

And I, what is my crime I cannot tell, Unless it be a crime to haue lou'd too well.

Eyes are vocal, tears have tongues, and there are words not made with lungs.

Thou water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life; Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of Thy reign, Distils from thence the tears of wrath and strife, And so turns wine to water back again.

In love's field was never found A nobler weapon than a wound.

Locked up from mortal eye in shady leaves of destiny.

Nothing speaks our grief so well as to speak nothing.

A happy soul, that all the way To heaven hath a summer's day.

Hark! She is called, the parting hour is come. Take thy farewell, poor world! Heaven must go home. . . .