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Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.

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
Idiot
Lays
Thee
Taught
Nature
Love

More quotes by John Donne

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Love is a growing, or full constant light And his first minute, after noon, is night.
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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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Never start with tomorrow to reach eternity. Eternity is not being reached by small steps.
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Be more than man, or thou'rt less than an ant.
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Let me arrest thy thoughts, wonder with me, Why ploughing, building, ruling and the rest, Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blessed, By cursed Cain's race invented be, And blessed Seth vexed us with astronomy.
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That subtle knot which makes us man So must pure lovers souls descend T affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies.
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Eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period.
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Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
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So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
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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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My love though silly is more brave.
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I shall die reading since my book and a grave are so near.
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And if there be any addition to knowledge, it is rather a new knowledge than a greater knowledge rather a singularity in a desire of proposing something that was not knownat all beforethananimproving, anadvancing, a multiplying of former inceptions and by that means, no knowledge comes to be perfect.
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I am a little world made cunningly.
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Kind pity chokes my spleen.
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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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The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.
John Donne
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Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.
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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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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.
John Donne