John Donne Quotes
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Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
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The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scattred bodies go.
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One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
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A bracelet of bright hair about the bone.
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Our two souls therefore which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.
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The world's whole sap is sunk: The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interred; yet all these seem to laugh, Compared with me, who am their epitaph.
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I know not what fear is, nor I know not what it is that I fear now; I fear not the hastening of my death, and yet I do fear the increase of the disease... my weakness is from nature, who hath but her measure, my strength is from God, who possesses and distributes infinitely.
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The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
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Variable, and therefore miserable condition of man; this minute I was well, and am ill, this minute.
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Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
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But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.
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Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feigned deaths to die.
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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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Ah cannot we As well as cocks and lions jocund be, After such pleasures?
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
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Since you would save none of me, I bury some of you.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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And swear No where Lives a woman true and fair. If thou find'st one, let me know, Such a pilgrimage were sweet; Yet do not, I would not go, Though at next door we might meet, Though she were true, when you met her, And last, till you write your letter, Yet she Will be False, ere I come, to two, or three.
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Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below. O, my America, my Newfoundland My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd, My mine of precious stones, my empery; How am I blest in thus discovering thee ! To enter in these bonds, is to be free ; Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.'
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I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.