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Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.

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
Strayed
Send
Thee
Eyes
Eye
Home
Long
Dwelt

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Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.
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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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we give each other a smile with a future in it
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God employs several translators some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.
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But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
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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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The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.
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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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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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And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
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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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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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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.
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ask not for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee
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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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Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
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This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
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Who are a little wise the best fools be.
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