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At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.

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
Angels
Round
Rounds
Corners
Blow
Angel
Earth
Trumpets
Imagined

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That which attempts to elevate the ugly to the level of beauty becomes neither but an obscenity.
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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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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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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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Old grandsires talk of yesterday with sorrow, And for our children we reserve tomorrow.
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Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
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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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