Quote

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

John Donne

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
Lawyer
Pastor
Poet
Politician
Songwriter
Translator
Writer
London
England
Very Rev. John Donne
Eyes
Eye
Home
Long
Dwelt
Strayed
Send
Thee

More quotes by John Donne

Image
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.
John Donne
Image
Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?
John Donne
Image
That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
John Donne
Image
Kind pity chokes my spleen.
John Donne
Image
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
John Donne
Image
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
Image
Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.
John Donne
Image
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.
John Donne
Image
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.
John Donne
Image
Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.
John Donne
Image
Men are sponges, which, to pour out, receive Who know false play, rather than lose, deceive. For in best understandings sin began, Angels sinn'd first, then devils, and then man. Only perchance beasts sin not wretched we Are beasts in all but white integrity.
John Donne
Image
And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
John Donne
Image
We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse And if no peace of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnet pretty rooms As well a well wrought urne becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
John Donne
Image
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
John Donne
Image
Since you would save none of me, I bury some of you.
John Donne
Image
But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
John Donne
Image
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
John Donne
Image
It is too little to call man a little world Except God, man is a diminutive to nothing.
John Donne
Image
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
John Donne
Image
we give each other a smile with a future in it
John Donne