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So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
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
Break
Lasts
Vapors
Last
Lamenting
Away
Vapor
Two
Sucks
Soul
Kiss
Souls
Kissing
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If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
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Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
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Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.
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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.
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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.
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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.
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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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O Lord, never suffer us to think that we can stand by ourselves, and not need thee.
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And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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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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I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
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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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