John Donne Quotes
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No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.
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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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Take heed of loving me.
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Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.
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Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
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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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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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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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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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A bracelet of bright hair about the bone.
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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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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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The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
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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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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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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do.
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But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.
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Ah cannot we As well as cocks and lions jocund be, After such pleasures?
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But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes, For he who color loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes.
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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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Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
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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.