Yet nothing can to nothing fall, Nor any place be empty quite; Therefore I think my breast hath all Those pieces still, though they be not unite; And now, as broken glasses show A hundred lesser faces, so My rags… — John Donne Copy Share Image
“He is stark mad, whoever says, That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so soon decays, But that it can ten in less space devour ; Who will believe me, if I swear That I… — John Donne Copy Share Image
Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life. — John Donne Copy Share
All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but… — John Donne Copy Share
We study health, and we deliberate upon our meats and drink and air and exercises, and we hew and we polish every stone that… — John Donne Copy Share
Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my… — John Donne Copy Share
Various content To your eyes, ears, and tongue, and every part. If then your body go, what need you a heart? — John Donne Copy Share
“Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ; That I may rise,… — John Donne Copy Share
That which attempts to elevate the ugly to the level of beauty becomes neither; but an obscenity. — John Donne Copy Share
For I am every dead thing In whom love wrought new alchemy For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull… — John Donne Copy Share
As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and… — John Donne Copy Share
All Kings, and all their favorites, All glory of honors, beauties, wits, The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass, Is elder by… — John Donne Copy Share
On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and hee that will Reach her, about must, and about must goo. — John Donne Copy Share
How many times go we to comedies, to masques, to places of great and noble resort, nay even to church only to see the… — John Donne Copy Share
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms, can make… — John Donne Copy Share
