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 DonneLove, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
John DonneThat which attempts to elevate the ugly to the level of beauty becomes neither; but an obscenity.
John DonneWho ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm; The mystery, the sign you must not touch, For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control, And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
John Donne