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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
Taught
Nature
Love
Idiot
Lays
Thee

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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.
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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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There is hook in every benefit, that sticks in his jaws that takes that benefit, and draws him whither the benefactor will.
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At most, the greatest persons are but great wens, and excrescences men of wit and delightful conversation, but as morals for ornament, except they be so incorporated into the body of the world that they contribute something to the sustentation of the whole.
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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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Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.
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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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I shall die reading since my book and a grave are so near.
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Friends are ourselves.
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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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Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys.
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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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Festive alcohol sometimes leads to an excess of honesty.
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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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I am a little world made cunningly.
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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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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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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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Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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