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Danh ngôn của John Donne (Sứ mệnh: 9)

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
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.
As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.
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.
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant; the only harmless great thing.
Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.
Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right.
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space.
God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.