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And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?

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
Sheets
Death
Ever
Entangling
Winding
Sheet
Intricate

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So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
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As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.
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All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee.
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The day breaks not, it is my heart.
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we give each other a smile with a future in it
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There is hook in every benefit, that sticks in his jaws that takes that benefit, and draws him whither the benefactor will.
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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.
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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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I shall not live 'till I see God and when I have seen Him, I shall never die.
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And new Philosophy calls all in doubt, the element of fire is quite put out the Sun is lost, and the earth, and no mans wit can well direct him where to look for it.
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But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
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At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.
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Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
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There is nothing that God hath established in a constant course of nature, and which therefore is done every day, but would seem a Miracle, and exercise our admiration, if it were done but once.
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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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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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