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
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
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
Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; for, thus friends absent speak. – John Donne
Time has lost all meaning in that nightmare alley of the Western world known as the American mind. We wallow in nostalgia but manage to get it all wrong. True nostalgia is an ephemeral composition of disjointed memories… but American-style nostalgia is about as ephemeral as copyrighted d?j? vu. – Florence King