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When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.

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
Dies
Language
Death
Tolls
Better
Congregation
Book
Translated
Men
Chapter
Chapters
Torn

More quotes by John Donne

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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
John Donne
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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.
John Donne
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The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.
John Donne
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All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
John Donne
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When I died last, and, Dear, I die As often as from thee I go Though it be but an hour ago, And lovers' hours be full eternity.
John Donne
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But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
John Donne
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Old grandsires talk of yesterday with sorrow, And for our children we reserve tomorrow.
John Donne
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The day breaks not, it is my heart.
John Donne
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As he that fears God fears nothing else, so he that sees God sees everything else.
John Donne
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And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
John Donne
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Keep us, Lord, so awake in the duties of our calling that we may sleep in thy peace and wake in thy glory.
John Donne
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Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.
John Donne
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The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.
John Donne
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O how feeble is man's power, that if good fortune fall, cannot add another hour, nor a lost hour recall!
John Donne
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Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
John Donne
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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
John Donne
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Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.
John Donne
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If poisonous minerals, and if that tree, Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damned alas why should I be?
John Donne
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
John Donne
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Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.
John Donne