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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?
John Donne
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John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
Lawyer
Pastor
Poet
Politician
Songwriter
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London
England
Very Rev. John Donne
Seven
Weaned
Loved
Snorted
Wonder
Sleepers
Pleasure
Dens
Country
Sucked
Love
Pleasures
Till
Childishly
Thou
Troth
More quotes by John Donne
What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?
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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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If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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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
As God loves a cheerful giver, so he also loves a cheerful taker. Who takes hold of his gifts with a glad heart.
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Can there be worse sickness, than to know that we are never well, nor can be so?
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There is nothing that God hath established in a constant course of nature, and which therefore is done every day, but would seem a Miracle, and exercise our admiration, if it were done but once.
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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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Kind pity chokes my spleen.
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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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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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I am a little world made cunningly.
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God employs several translators some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.
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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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I count all that part of my life lost which I spent not in communion with God, or in doing good.
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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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And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.
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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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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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