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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.

John Donne

Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life.
JOHN DONNE

Criticism Death Life Ourselves
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.
JOHN DONNE

Enemy Exception Friendship God Love Man Myself Vice
I sing the progress of a deathless soul.
JOHN DONNE

Death Myself One Liner Progress Sing Soul
Be more than man, or thou’rt less than an ant.
JOHN DONNE

Animal Man Worth Yourself
How great love is, presence best trial makes, But absence tries how long this love will be.
JOHN DONNE

Absence Greatness Love Presence
Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
JOHN DONNE

Confusion Poor Soul
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
JOHN DONNE

Love Myself Oneself Sin
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
JOHN DONNE

Autumn Face Myself See Spring Summer
Friends are ourselves.
JOHN DONNE

Friendship One Liner Ourselves
The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.
JOHN DONNE

Gift Heaven Material Poor Rich
Pleasure is none, if not diversified.
JOHN DONNE

Friendship Happiness One Liner Share
How imperfect is all our knowledge!
JOHN DONNE

Knowledge Ourselves Perfection
If we consider eternity, into that time never entered; eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period; and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been.
JOHN DONNE

Forever Parents Short Time
Nature’s great masterpiece, an elephant; the only harmless great thing.
JOHN DONNE

Greatness Nature Pieces
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
Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
JOHN DONNE

Despair Heaven Hell Joy

Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.

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Nothing but man of all envenomed things, doth work upon itself, with inborn stings.

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Popular Authors

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