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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.

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
Indiscreet
Wicked
Worse
Much

More quotes by John Donne

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Poor heretics there be,Which think to establish dangerous constancy,But I have told them, ‘Since you will be true,You shall be true to them, who are false to you.
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Between these two, the denying of sins, which we have done, and the bragging of sins, which we have not done, what a space, what a compass is there, for millions of millions of sins!
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It is too little to call man a little world Except God, man is a diminutive to nothing.
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
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Tis true, 'tis day what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because 'tis light? Did we lie down, because 'twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us together.
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And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.
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We love and understand talent we wish it be within us. The truly gifted, those exceptional few, must wait for the world to catch up.
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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.
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Since you would save none of me, I bury some of you.
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We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse And if no peace of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnet pretty rooms As well a well wrought urne becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
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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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Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
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When I died last, and, Dear, I die As often as from thee I go Though it be but an hour ago, And lovers' hours be full eternity.
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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend, All is the purlieu of the god of love.
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Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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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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