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Never start with tomorrow to reach eternity. Eternity is not being reached by small steps.

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
Reach
Tomorrow
Steps
Small
Start
Never
Reached
Eternity

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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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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 rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.
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But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
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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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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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ask not for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee
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. . . Change is the nursery Of musicke, joy, life and eternity.
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We love and understand talent we wish it be within us. The truly gifted, those exceptional few, must wait for the world to catch up.
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Verse hath a middle nature: heaven keeps souls, The grave keeps bodies, verse the fame enrols.
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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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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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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
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Great sorrows cannot speak.
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Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.
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To rage, to lust, to write to, to commend, All is the purlieu of the god of love.
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That soul that can reflect upon itself, consider itself, is more than so.
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All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
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In heaven it is always autumn.
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