Online Tools and Calculators > Miscellaneous > Quote Search

Quote Search

For I am every dead thing In whom love wrought new alchemy For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness He ruined me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not.
—  John Donne
The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
—  John Donne
Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.
—  John Donne
Now God comes to thee, not as in the dawning of the day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the sun at noon to illustrate all shadows, as the sheaves in harvest, to fill all penuries, all occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons.
—  John Donne
We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse; And if no peace of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnet pretty rooms; As well a well wrought urne becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
—  John Donne
As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
—  John Donne
If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do.
—  John Donne
I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
—  John Donne
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread Our eyes, upon one double string; So to entergraft our hands, as yet Was all the means to make us one, And pictures in our eyes to get Was all our propagation.
—  John Donne
Great sins are great possessions; but levities and vanities possess us too; and men had rather part with Christ than with any possession.
—  John Donne
The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
—  John Donne
Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
—  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?
—  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 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
Show me, dear Christ, Thy spouse, so bright and clear.
—  John Donne
The flea, though he kill none, he does all the harm he can.
—  John Donne
What gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worm is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?
—  John Donne
God affords no man the comfort, the false comfort of Atheism: He will not allow a pretending Atheist the power to flatter himself, so far, as to seriously think there is no God.
—  John Donne
Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; For, thus friends absent speak.
—  John Donne
Go, and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me, where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot. Teach me to hear mermaids singing.
—  John Donne
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
She is all states, and all princes, I, Nothing else is.
—  John Donne
All Kings, and all their favorites, All glory of honors, beauties, wits, The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass, Is elder by a year, now, than it was When thou and I first one another saw: All other things, to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This, no tomorrow hash, nor yesterday, Running, it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
—  John Donne
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
—  John Donne
Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
—  John Donne
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
—  John Donne
I observe the physician with the same diligence as he the disease.
—  John Donne
... Change is the nursery Of musicke, joy, life and eternity.
—  John Donne
God is so omnipresent ... God is an angel in an angel, and a stone in a stone, and a straw in a straw.
—  John Donne
Chastity is not chastity in an old man, but a disability to be unchaste.
—  John Donne
And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?
—  John Donne
Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
—  John Donne
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
—  John Donne
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
—  John Donne
Who ever loves, if he do not propose The right true end of love, he's one that goes To sea for nothing but to make him sick.
—  John Donne
It is too little to call man a little world; Except God, man is a diminutive to nothing.
—  John Donne
I do not love a man, except I hate his vices, because those vices are the enemies, and the destruction of that friend whom I love.
—  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.
—  John Donne
And new philosophy calls all in doubt, The element of fire is quite put out; The sun is lost, and the earth, and no man's wit Can well direct him where to look for it. And freely men confess that this world's spent, When in the planets, and the firmament They seek so many new; then see that this Is crumbled out again to his atomies. 'Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone; All just supply, and all relation: Prince, subject, Father, Son, are things forgot.
—  John Donne
I have done one braver thing Than all the Worthies did; And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid.
—  John Donne
I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.
—  John Donne
Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.
—  John Donne
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.
—  John Donne
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree, Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us, If lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damned; alas; why should I be?
—  John Donne
Yesternight the sun went hence, And yet is here today.
—  John Donne
Ah cannot we As well as cocks and lions jocund be, After such pleasures?
—  John Donne
When I died last, and dear, I die As often as from thee I go.
—  John Donne
But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes, For he who color loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes.
—  John Donne
I do nothing upon myself, and yet am mine own executioner.
—  John Donne
Our critical day is not the very day of our death, but the whole course of our life; I thank him, that prays for me when my bell tolls; but I thank him much more, that catechizes me, or preaches to me, or instructs me how to live.
—  John Donne
I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door.
—  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 emploies 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 one another.
—  John Donne
Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because 'tis light? Did we lie down, because 'twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us together.
—  John Donne

Think Quote Search Is Helpful? You Can Help Others Too. Click The Social Button Below To Share It.

About Quote Search

This online quotation search tool is used to search thousands of quotes by author, word or phrase.

©2017 Miniwebtool | Terms and Disclaimer | Privacy Policy | Contact Us