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Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.

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
Grows
Phrase
Men
Aliens
Phrases
Truths
Uncertainty
Grow
Strange
Attire
Doubt
Doubts

More quotes by John Donne

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Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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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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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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God employs several translators some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.
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I have done one braver thing than all the Worthies did, and yet a braver thence doth spring, which is, to keep that hid.
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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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My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
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If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do.
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
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When my mouth shall be filled with dust, and the worm shall feed, and feed sweetly upon me, when the ambitious man shall have no satisfaction if the poorest alive tread upon him, nor the poorest receive any contentment in being made equal to princes, for they shall be equal but in dust.
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Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
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Kind pity chokes my spleen.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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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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To an incompetent judge I must not lie, but I may be silent to a competent I must answer.
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Who are a little wise the best fools be.
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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.
John Donne