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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.

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
Religion
Noise
Whining
Christian
Throw
Invite
God
Chamber
Angel
Invites
Door
Coach
Doors
Neglect
Prayer
Angels
Thither
Call
Coaches
Rattling

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I shall die reading since my book and a grave are so near.
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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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And new Philosophy calls all in doubt, the element of fire is quite put out the Sun is lost, and the earth, and no mans wit can well direct him where to look for it.
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Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.
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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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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.
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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.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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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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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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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
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How many times go we to comedies, to masques, to places of great and noble resort, nay even to church only to see the company.
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I am a little world made cunningly.
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Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
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My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.
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When God's hand is bent to strike, it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God but to fall out of the hands of the living God is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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When my mouth shall be filled with dust, and the worm shall feed, and feed sweetly upon me, when the ambitious man shall have no satisfaction if the poorest alive tread upon him, nor the poorest receive any contentment in being made equal to princes, for they shall be equal but in dust.
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This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
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