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In heaven it is always autumn.

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
Autumn
Heaven
Always

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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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When God's hand is bent to strike, it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God but to fall out of the hands of the living God is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination.
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Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.
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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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If poisonous minerals, and if that tree, Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damned alas why should I be?
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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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I will not look upon the quickening sun, But straight her beauty to my sense shall run The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure Water suggest her clear, and the earth sure Time shall not lose our passages.
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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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To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend, All is the purlieu of the god of love.
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This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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God made sun and moon to distinguish the seasons, and day and night and we cannot have the fruits of the earth but in their seasons. But God hath made no decrees to distinguish the seasons of His mercies. In Paradise the fruits were ripe the first minute, and in heaven it is always autumn. His mercies are ever in their maturity.
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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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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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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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To an incompetent judge I must not lie, but I may be silent to a competent I must answer.
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Love is a growing, or full constant light And his first minute, after noon, is night.
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Friends are ourselves.
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Enjoyment always has a spoiling, otherwise it cannot be so.
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