SIR, more than kisses, letters mingle souls,
For thus, friends absent speak. – 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
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