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If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

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
Ever
Twas
Desired
Thee
Beauty
Dream

More quotes by John Donne

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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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Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?
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As God loves a cheerful giver, so he also loves a cheerful taker. Who takes hold of his gifts with a glad heart.
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I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.
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I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure Time shall not lose our passages.
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Let man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is.
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
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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 be no part of any body, is to be nothing.
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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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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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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.
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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it and made fit for God.
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When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.
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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.
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Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
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Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my knees, a noise in my ear, a light in my eye, an anything, a nothing, a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayers.
John Donne
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Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
John Donne
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I have done one braver thing than all the Worthies did, and yet a braver thence doth spring, which is, to keep that hid.
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