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And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.

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
Woman
Lives
True
Women
Life
Swear
Fairs
Fair

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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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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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I would not that death should take me asleep. I would not have him merely seize me, and only declare me to be dead, but win me, and overcome me. When I must shipwreck, I would do it in a sea, where mine impotency might have some excuse not in a sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so much as exercise for my swimming.
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God is so omnipresent. . . . God is an angel in an angel, and a stone in a stone, and a straw in a straw.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
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At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.
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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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And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
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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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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
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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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When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.
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Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.
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The sun must not set upon anger, much less will I let the sun set upon the anger of God towards me.
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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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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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