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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.

John Donne

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John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
Lawyer
Pastor
Poet
Politician
Songwriter
Translator
Writer
London
England
Very Rev. John Donne
Age
Hath
Faces
Seasons
Fall
Summer
Spring
Grace
Autumnal
Seen
Equinox
Beauty
September
Face
Autumn

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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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One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more Death, thou shalt die.
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I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
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That thou remember them, some claim as debt I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.
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Since you would save none of me, I bury some of you.
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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.
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To a large degree, since the beginning of time, charisma or the lack of it has impacted upon those in quest of acclaim. As media expands, this has become ever more vital. Thus, demeanor if unappealing, can defeat one's likelihood of success, causing the death of prospects whilst they are still embryonic.
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Tis true, 'tis day what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because 'tis light? Did we lie down, because 'twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us together.
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The sun must not set upon anger, much less will I let the sun set upon the anger of God towards me.
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Let me arrest thy thoughts, wonder with me, Why ploughing, building, ruling and the rest, Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blessed, By cursed Cain's race invented be, And blessed Seth vexed us with astronomy.
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God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.
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We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse And if no peace of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnet pretty rooms As well a well wrought urne becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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God made sun and moon to distinguish the seasons, and day and night and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons. But God hath made no decrees to distinguish the seasons of His mercies. In Paradise the fruits were ripe the first minute, and in heaven it is always autumn. His mercies are ever in their maturity.
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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.
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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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