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Doth not a man die even in his birth? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a breaking of prison?

John Donne

Reason is our soul’s left hand, Faith her right, By these we reach divinity
JOHN DONNE

Divine Hands Ourselves Reason Soul
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
We give each other a smile with a future in it.
JOHN DONNE

Each Other Future One Liner
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
JOHN DONNE

Death Forever Past Short Sleep Wake Up
Be more than man, or thou’rt less than an ant.
JOHN DONNE

Animal Man Worth Yourself
Our two souls therefore which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.
JOHN DONNE

Endurance Expansion Gold Myself Soul
I am a little world made cunningly.
JOHN DONNE

Build Myself One Liner World
I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease.
JOHN DONNE

Myself Observation Sick
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
JOHN DONNE

Exception Freedom Prison Yourself
Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
JOHN DONNE

Beginning Humility One Liner Satisfaction
Nature’s great masterpiece, an elephant; the only harmless great thing.
JOHN DONNE

Greatness Nature Pieces
How great love is, presence best trial makes, But absence tries how long this love will be.
JOHN DONNE

Absence Greatness Love Presence
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
Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.
JOHN DONNE

Hell Solitude Threat
More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
JOHN DONNE

Kiss Letter Soul
Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
JOHN DONNE

Confusion Poor Soul

Doth not a man die even in his birth? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a breaking of prison?

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Doth not a man die even in his birth? The breaking of prison is death, and what is our birth, but a breaking of prison?

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