To be no part of any body, is to be nothing. – John Donne
When I died last, and, Dear, I die as often as from thee I go though it be but an hour ago and lovers hours be full eternity. – John Donne
Contemplative and bookish men must of necessity be more quarrelsome than others, because they contend not about matter of fact, nor can determine their controversies by any certain witnesses, nor judges. But as long as they go towards peace, that is Truth, it is no matter which way. – John Donne
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
Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys. – John Donne
We are all conceived in close prison; in our mothers wombs, we are close prisoners all; when we are born, we are born but to the liberty of the house; prisoners still, though within larger walls; and then all our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death. – John Donne
Be your own palace, or the world is your jail. – John Donne
When I must shipwrack, I would do it in a sea, where mine impotencie might have some excuse; not in a sullen weedy lake, where I could not have so much as exercise for my swimming. – John Donne
SIR, more than kisses, letters mingle souls, For thus, friends absent speak. – John Donne
I observe the physician with the same diligence as the disease. – John Donne
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again years and years unto years, till we attain to write threescore: this is the second of our reign. – John Donne
No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face. – John Donne
Natures great masterpiece, an elephant the only harmless great thing. – John Donne
Be thine own palace, or the worlds thy jail. – John Donne
Any mans 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
Art is the most passionate orgy within mans grasp. – John Donne
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. – John Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no. – John Donne
I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry. – John Donne
More than kisses, letters mingle souls. – John Donne
