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To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend, All is the purlieu of the god of love.

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
Rage
Write
Writing
Love
Commend
Lust

More quotes by John Donne

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Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
John Donne
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That subtle knot which makes us man So must pure lovers souls descend T affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies.
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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.
John Donne
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Eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period.
John Donne
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
John Donne
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So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
John Donne
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Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
John Donne
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Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.
John Donne
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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.
John Donne
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
John Donne
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Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
John Donne
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Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.
John Donne
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And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.
John Donne
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Send home my long strayed eyes to me, Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee.
John Donne
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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.
John Donne
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Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
John Donne
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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
John Donne
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My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.
John Donne
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Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
John Donne
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There is no health physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
John Donne