Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.
John Donne
And new Philosophy calls all in doubt, the element of fire is quite put out; the Sun is lost, and the earth, and no mans wit can well direct him where to look for it.
John Donne
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
John Donne
Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.
John Donne
As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.
John Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.
John Donne
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.
John Donne
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
John Donne
But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
John Donne
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.
John Donne
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.
John Donne
Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
John Donne
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.
John Donne
God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.
John Donne
He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God; He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.
John Donne
Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
John Donne
I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.
John Donne
I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease.
John Donne
Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.
John Donne
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
John Donne
Related Authors
Lord Byron, Christina Rossetti, Samuel Butler, Lascelles Abercrombie, Thomas Babington, Edith Sitwell, George Herbert, Carol Ann Duffy
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