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If we consider eternity, into that time never entered eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been.

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
Short
Parentheses
Though
Flux
Long
Entered
Never
Everlasting
Time
Period
Eternity
Consider
Periods
Parenthesis

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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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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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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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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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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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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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'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's.
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In the first minute that my soul is infused, the Image of God is imprinted in my soul so forward is God in my behalf, and so early does he visit me.
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Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.
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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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If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.
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I am a little world made cunningly.
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The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
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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!
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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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Kind pity chokes my spleen.
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The day breaks not, it is my heart.
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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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Festive alcohol sometimes leads to an excess of honesty.
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