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...Whatever dies was not mixed equally, If our two loves be one Or thou and I love so alike That none can slacken, none can die.

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
Two
Mixed
Love
Alike
Equally
Thou
Loves
None
Dies
Whatever
Slacken

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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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But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
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This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
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Can there be worse sickness, than to know that we are never well, nor can be so?
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Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
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Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
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There is hook in every benefit, that sticks in his jaws that takes that benefit, and draws him whither the benefactor will.
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Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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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?
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Never start with tomorrow to reach eternity. Eternity is not being reached by small steps.
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Men are sponges, which, to pour out, receive Who know false play, rather than lose, deceive. For in best understandings sin began, Angels sinn'd first, then devils, and then man. Only perchance beasts sin not wretched we Are beasts in all but white integrity.
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To an incompetent judge I must not lie, but I may be silent to a competent I must answer.
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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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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?
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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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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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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 feign'd deaths to die.
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