"No man is an island, entire of itself
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were
any man's 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

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."
— John Donne (The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne)

"I am two fools, I know,
for loving, and for saying so"
— John Donne

"Then love is sin, and let me sinful be."
— John Donne

"Love, built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies."
— John Donne

"Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more."
— John Donne (The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne)

"Other men's crosses are not my crosses."
— John Donne

"no spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
as i have seen in one autumnal face."
— John Donne

"All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and His hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to another."
— John Donne

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls."
— John Donne

"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.
If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth if th' other do.
And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home.
Suth wilt thou be to me, who must Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I began."
— John Donne (Poetry and Prose of John Donne)

"Any man's 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

""To know and feel all this and not have the words to express it makes a human a grave of his own thoughts.""
— John Donne

"Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more."
— John Donne

"Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant;
the only harmless great thing."
— John Donne

"Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. "
— John Donne

"I did best when I had least truth for my subjects."
— John Donne (The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne)

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.

Devotions upon Emergent Occasions, no. 17 (Meditation)
1624 (published)"
— John Donne

"I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;
Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die."
— John Donne

"No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...any man's 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

"At one blood labors to beget,
Spirits as like as it can,
Because such figures need to knit,
that subtle knot which makes us man."
— John Donne

"Busie olde foole, unruly Sunne;
Why dost thou thus,
Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us?
Must to they motions lovers seasons run?
Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide
Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices,
Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride,
Call countrey ands to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clyme,
Nor houres, dayes, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beames, so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou thinke?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine
Looke, and tomorrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the India's of spice and Myne
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay.

She'is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing else is;
Princes doe but play us; compar'd to this,
All honor's mimique; All wealth alchimie,
Thou sunne art halfe as happy'as wee,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine ages askes ease, and since thy duties bee
To warme the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art every where;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.
"
— John Donne

"And to 'scape stormy days, I choose an everlasting night."
— John Donne (The Complete English Poems)

"My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die."
— John Donne

"That thou remember them, some claim as debt; I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget."
— John Donne (John Donne's Poetry)

""...My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.""
— John Donne

"My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die."
— John Donne

"TIS the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays ;
The world's whole sap is sunk ;
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr'd ; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compared with me, who am their epitaph."
— John Donne

"Death, thou shalt die."
— John Donne

"Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book."
— John Donne

"If that be simply perfectest
Which can by no way be expresst
But negatives, my love is so.
To All, which all love, I say no.

Negative Love"
— John Donne

""No man is an island entire of itself; every man is...a part of the main...Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in Mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, because it tolls for thee."
"
— John Donne

"I fix mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye..."
— John Donne

"Love’s mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book."
— John Donne

""...but come bad chance
And wee joyne to it our strength
And wee teach it art and length
It selfe o'er us to advance.""
— John Donne

"No man is an island, entire of itself. Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main... Any man's 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

""Her pure and eloquent blood spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, that one might almost say her body thought.""
— John Donne

"Brevity is the soul of wit"
— John Donne

"No man is an island entire of itself each is a piece of the continent"
— John Donne (No Man Is An Island)

"Each man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."
— John Donne

"Poor heretics there be,
Which think to establish dangerous constancy,
But I have told them, ‘Since you will be true,
You shall be true to them, who are false to you.’"
— John Donne

"ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee"
— John Donne

"BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time."
— John Donne

"Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.
"
— John Donne

"For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait,
That fish, that is not catched thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I."
— John Donne

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's 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 (No Man Is an Island/John Donne)

"Death is an ascension to a better library. "
— John Donne

"My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die."
— John Donne