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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.

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
Decay
Hath
Draw
Draws
Destruction
Things
Love

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O how feeble is man's power, that if good fortune fall, cannot add another hour, nor a lost hour recall!
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Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
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And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
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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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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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And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
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Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
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...Whatever dies was not mixed equally, If our two loves be one Or thou and I love so alike That none can slacken, none can die.
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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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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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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.
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Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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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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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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I am a little world made cunningly.
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God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
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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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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.
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