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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?
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
Torment
Bed
Tickling
Sight
Gnawing
Comfort
Secluded
Marriage
Damnation
Worm
Eternally
Worms
More quotes by John Donne
My love though silly is more brave.
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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.
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. . . Change is the nursery Of musicke, joy, life and eternity.
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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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In heaven it is always autumn.
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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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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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Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.
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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.
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When I died last, and, Dear, I die As often as from thee I go Though it be but an hour ago, And lovers' hours be full eternity.
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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it and made fit for God.
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As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there.
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Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
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Religion is not a melancholy, the spirit of God is not a damper.
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That which attempts to elevate the ugly to the level of beauty becomes neither but an obscenity.
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No man is an island, entire of itself every man is a piece of the continent.
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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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One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more Death, thou shalt die.
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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