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The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this 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
Love
Mysterious
Rise
Fit
Sexes
Sex
Phoenix
Prove
Riddle
Dies
Neutral
Two
Hath
Thing
Wit

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One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more Death, thou shalt die.
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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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There is no health physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
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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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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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I shall not live 'till I see God and when I have seen Him, I shall never die.
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At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.
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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee.
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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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And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's.
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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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Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
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Old grandsires talk of yesterday with sorrow, And for our children we reserve tomorrow.
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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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I have done one braver thing than all the Worthies did, and yet a braver thence doth spring, which is, to keep that hid.
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Let man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is.
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Be more than man, or thou'rt less than an ant.
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