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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.

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
Voice
Often
Shapeless
Thrice
Flame
Affect
Flames
Angels
Angel

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Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
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Be more than man, or thou'rt less than an ant.
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As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.
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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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There is no health physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
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ask not for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee
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God made sun and moon to distinguish the seasons, and day and night and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons. But God hath made no decrees to distinguish the seasons of His mercies. In Paradise the fruits were ripe the first minute, and in heaven it is always autumn. His mercies are ever in their maturity.
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Who are a little wise the best fools be.
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At most, the greatest persons are but great wens, and excrescences men of wit and delightful conversation, but as morals for ornament, except they be so incorporated into the body of the world that they contribute something to the sustentation of the whole.
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we give each other a smile with a future in it
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True joy is the earnest which we have of heaven, it is the treasure of the soul, and therefore should be laid in a safe place, and nothing in this world is safe to place it in.
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I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so.
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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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Old grandsires talk of yesterday with sorrow, And for our children we reserve tomorrow.
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This Extasie doth unperplex (We said) and tell us what we love, Wee see by this, it was not sexe, Wee see, we saw not what did move: But as all severall soules contain Mixture of things, they know not what, Love, these mixt souls, doth mixe againe. Loves mysteries in soules doe grow, But yet the body is his booke.
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And if there be any addition to knowledge, it is rather a new knowledge than a greater knowledge rather a singularity in a desire of proposing something that was not knownat all beforethananimproving, anadvancing, a multiplying of former inceptions and by that means, no knowledge comes to be perfect.
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And when a whirl-winde hath blowne the dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and man sweeps out the dust of the Church into the Church-yard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble flower, and this the yeomanly, this the Plebian bran.
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