Doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is.
John DonneLove, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
John DonneAnd when a whirl-winde hath blowne the dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and man sweeps out the dust of the Church into the Church-yard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble flower, and this the yeomanly, this the Plebian bran.
John Donne