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It is too little to call man a little world Except God, man is a diminutive to nothing.

John Donne

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John Donne
Died: 1631
Died: March 31
Lawyer
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Poet
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London
England
Very Rev. John Donne
Nothing
Men
World
Diminutive
Except
Call
Littles
Little

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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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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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Let man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is.
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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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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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But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.
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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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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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Poor heretics there be,Which think to establish dangerous constancy,But I have told them, ‘Since you will be true,You shall be true to them, who are false to you.
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My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
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If every gnat that flies were an archangel, all that could but tell me that there is a God and the poorest worm that creeps tells me that.
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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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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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Who are a little wise the best fools be.
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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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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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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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