Quotes About Eternity

As well a well-wrought urn becomesThe greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.

Yesternight the sun went hence,And yet is here today.

If poisonous minerals, and if that tree,Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,If lecherous goats, if serpents enviousCannot be damn'd; alas; why should I be?

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.

When I died last, and dear, I dieAs often as from thee I go.

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

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,Which was my sin, though it were done before?Wilt thou forgive that sin; through which I run,And do run still: though still I do deplore?When thou hast done, thou hast not done,For, I have more.

Since I am coming to that holy room,Where, with thy choir of saints forevermore,I shall be made thy music; as I comeI tune the instrument here at the door,And what I must do then, think here before.

Sweetest love, I do not go,For weariness of thee,Nor in hope the world can showA fitter love for me;But since that IMust die at last, 'tis best,To use my self in jestThus by feign'd deaths to die.

All mankind is of one Author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated.

If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.

Our two souls therefore which are one,Though I must go, endure not yetA breach, but an expansion,Like gold to airy thinness beat.

Death be not proud, though some have called theeMighty 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.

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?

What if this present were the world's last night?

And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?

At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blowYour trumpets, angels, and arise, ariseFrom death, you numberless infinitiesOf souls.

But think that weAre but turn'd aside to sleep.

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

Death, thou shalt die.

Only our love hath no decay; This no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday, Running it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so.

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

when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another;