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John Donne Quotes about Art

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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.

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.

John Donne
Death, Art, Thinking
'Holy Sonnets' (1609) no. 6 (in J. Carey's edition, OUP, 1990)

Art is the most passionate orgy within man's grasp.

John Donne
Art, Men, Passionate

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.

John Donne
Love, Sweet, Art
John Donne (2013). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of John Donne (Illustrated)”, p.115, Delphi Classics

Eternity is not an everlasting flux of time, but time is as a short parenthesis in a long period.

John Donne
Time, Art, Philosophy
John Donne, John E. Booty (1990). “John Donne: Selections from Divine Poems, Sermons, Devotions, and Prayers”, p.7, Paulist Press

Women are like the arts, forced unto none, Open to all searchers, unprized, if unknown.

John Donne
Art, Women, Searchers
John Donne (2013). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of John Donne (Illustrated)”, p.91, Delphi Classics

Let me arrest thy thoughts, wonder with me, Why ploughing, building, ruling and the rest, Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blessed, By cursed Cain's race invented be, And blessed Seth vexed us with astronomy.

John Donne
Art, Science, Race
"John Donne: The Major Works".

Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.

John Donne
Art, Hate, Women
John Donne (1996). “Selected Poetry”, p.92, Oxford University Press, USA

A mathematical point is the most indivisble and unique thing which art can present.

John Donne
Art, Unique, Mathematics
"The science of poetry, the poetry of science" by Ruth Padel, www.theguardian.com. December 9, 2011.

Thou art 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?

John Donne
Art, Kings, War
John Donne (1839). “The Works of John Donne: With a Memoir of His Life”, p.448

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
Love, Art, Darkness
John Donne, John Carey (2000). “John Donne: The Major Works”, p.116, Oxford University Press, USA

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