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Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.

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
Upon
Men
Heavens
Hath
Heaven

More quotes by John Donne

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O Lord, never suffer us to think that we can stand by ourselves, and not need thee.
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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.
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My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
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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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Love is a growing, or full constant light And his first minute, after noon, is night.
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I have done one braver thing than all the Worthies did, and yet a braver thence doth spring, which is, to keep that hid.
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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.
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Sleep with clean hands, either kept clean all day by integrity or washed clean at night by repentance.
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Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?
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Death, thou shalt die.
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Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it and made fit for God.
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All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.
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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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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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If we consider eternity, into that time never entered eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been.
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So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.
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Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
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The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.
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Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
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But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.
John Donne