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Nature hath no goal though she hath law.

John Donne

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John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
Lawyer
Pastor
Poet
Politician
Songwriter
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Writer
London
England
Very Rev. John Donne
Hath
Law
Though
Goal
Nature

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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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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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This Extasie doth unperplex (We said) and tell us what we love, Wee see by this, it was not sexe, Wee see, we saw not what did move: But as all severall soules contain Mixture of things, they know not what, Love, these mixt souls, doth mixe againe. Loves mysteries in soules doe grow, But yet the body is his booke.
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There is no health physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
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My love though silly is more brave.
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So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
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Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock breathe, shine, and seek to mend That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
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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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I shall not live 'till I see God and when I have seen Him, I shall never die.
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And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.
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The sun must not set upon anger, much less will I let the sun set upon the anger of God towards me.
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Twice or thrice had I loved thee before I knew thy face or name, so in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, angels affect us oft, and worshiped be.
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I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
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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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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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I am a little world made cunningly.
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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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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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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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