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Commemoration of Richard Meux Benson, Founder of the Society of St John the Evangelist, 1915 Our critical day is not the very day of our death, but the whole course of our life I thank him, that prays for me when my bell tolls but I thank him much more, that catechizes me, or preaches to me, or instructs me how to live.

John Donne

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John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
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Enjoyment always has a spoiling, otherwise it cannot be so.
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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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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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There is no health physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
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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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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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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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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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I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure Time shall not lose our passages.
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Let man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is.
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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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Verse hath a middle nature: heaven keeps souls, The grave keeps bodies, verse the fame enrols.
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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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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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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.
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And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
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I shall die reading since my book and a grave are so near.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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