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I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov’d?

John Donne

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

Continent Man Piece
Poetry is a counterfeit creation, and makes things that are not, as though they were.
JOHN DONNE

Art Build Creation Poetry
Keep us, Lord, so awake in the duties of our calling that we may sleep in thy peace and wake in thy glory.
JOHN DONNE

Glory Ourselves Peace Responsibility Wake Up
To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.
JOHN DONNE

Expression Feeling Grave Human Thinking Word
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty 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.
JOHN DONNE

Death God Kill Myself Poor Proud Thinking
If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
JOHN DONNE

Beautiful Desire Dreams Myself See
Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.
JOHN DONNE

Hell Solitude Threat
Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
JOHN DONNE

Death Diminish Freedom Kind Man
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
JOHN DONNE

Love Season Time
Who are a little wise the best fools be.
JOHN DONNE

Best Fools One Liner Wisdom
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so.
JOHN DONNE

Fools Love Myself Talk
Friends are ourselves.
JOHN DONNE

Friendship One Liner Ourselves
I sing the progress of a deathless soul.
JOHN DONNE

Death Myself One Liner Progress Sing Soul
Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes.
JOHN DONNE

Death Deep Equality Philosophy Spiritual Wisdom
In the first minute that my soul is infused, the Image of God is imprinted in my soul; so forward is God in my behalf, and so early does he visit me.
JOHN DONNE

God Image Myself Soul Visit
When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.
JOHN DONNE

Better Book Death Language Man Translation

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov’d?

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I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov’d?

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