Quotes from John Donne

I am two fools I know for loving and saying so.

Love all love of other sights controls. And makes one little room an everywhere.

If yet I have not all thy love love Dear I shall never have it all.

Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.

As peace is of all goodness, so war is an emblem, a hieroglyphic, of all misery.

Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right.

But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.

No man is an Island intire of it self; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in Mankinde, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease.

The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can.

All kings, and all their favourites, All glory of honours, beauties, wits, The sun itself, which makes time, as they pass, Is elder by a year now than it was When thou and I first one another saw. All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday; Running it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.

Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.

What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.

No man is an island unto himself.

Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.

God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.

Affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.

I do not love a man, except I hate his vices, because those vices are the enemies, and the destruction of that friend whom I love.

He must pull out his own eyes, and see no creature, before he can say, he sees no God; He must be no man, and quench his reasonable soul, before he can say to himself, there is no God.

And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.

Women are like the arts, forced unto none, Open to all searchers, unprized, if unknown.

Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.