Quotes from John Donne

Love is a growing, or full constant light; And his first minute, after noon, is night.

Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.

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.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

True and false fears let us refrain, Let us love nobly, and live, and add again Years and years unto years, till we attain To write threescore ; this is the second of our reign.

How great love is, presence best trial makes, But absence tries how long this love will be.

...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.

If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?

I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.

As God loves a cheerful giver, so he also loves a cheerful taker. Who takes hold of his gifts with a glad heart.

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.

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

All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay.

But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes, For he who color loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes.

Filled with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.

My love though silly is more brave.

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.

Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.

And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.

The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.

That our affections kill us not, nor dye.

Methinks I lied all winter, when I sworeMy love was infinite, if spring makes it more.