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Great sorrows cannot speak.

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
Great
Sorrows
Sorrow
Speak
Cannot

More quotes by John Donne

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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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And when a whirl-winde hath blowne the dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and man sweeps out the dust of the Church into the Church-yard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble flower, and this the yeomanly, this the Plebian bran.
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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.
John Donne
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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.
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A man that is not afraid of a Lion is afraid of a Cat .
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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.
John Donne
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Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love.
John Donne
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True joy is the earnest which we have of heaven, it is the treasure of the soul, and therefore should be laid in a safe place, and nothing in this world is safe to place it in.
John Donne
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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At the round earth's imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls **** All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.
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we give each other a smile with a future in it
John Donne
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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.
John Donne
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Lust-bred diseases rot thee.
John Donne
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
John Donne
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I am a little world made cunningly.
John Donne
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No man is an island, entire of itself every man is a piece of the continent.
John Donne
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The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can.
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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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
John Donne