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English poet and divine
(1572 - 1631)
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Whoever 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.
      - [Love]

Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.
      - [Indiscretion]

My forces are not enfeebled, I find no decay in my strength; my provisions are not cut off, I find no abhorring in mine appetite; my counsels are not corrupted nor infatuated, I find no false apprehensions to work upon mine understanding; and yet they see that invisibly, and I feel that insensibly, the disease prevails.
      - Devotions (X, Meditation) [Appetite]

If we consider eternity, into that time never entered; eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period; and eternity had been the same as it is, though time had never been.
      - Devotions (XIV, Meditation) [Eternity]

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece 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 friendís or of thine own were: any manís 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 Emegent Occasions
         (Meditation XVII)
        [Death : Isolation : Mortality]

Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: 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 Godís 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.
      - Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
         (Meditation XVII) [God : Isolation]

He was the word that spake it,
  He took the bread and brake it;
    And what that word did make it,
      I do believe and take it.
      - Divine Poems--On the Sacrament,
        (Flesher's Edition) [Doctrine]

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
  As I have seen in one autumnal face;
    Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape;
      This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.
      - Elegy IX--The Autumnal [Age : Autumn]

We understood
  Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
    Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
      That one might almost say her body thought.
      - Funeral Elegies--Of the Progress of the Soul--Death of Mistress Elizabeth Drury

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.
      - Holy Sonnets (no. X) [Death]

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
  And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
      - Holy Sonnets (no. X) [Death]

'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
  But, that God should be made like man, much more.
      - Holy Sonnets (no. XV) [God]

And pictures in our eyes to get
  Was all our propagation.
      - The Ecstacy [Eyes]

Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
      - The Triple Fool [Wisdom]

Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell;
  Inn anywhere; continuance maketh hell.
    And seeing the snail, which everywhere doth roam,
      Carrying his own home still, still is at home;
        Follow--for he is easy paced--this snail,
          Be thine own palace, or the world's thy gaol.
      - To Sir Henry Wotton [Women]

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