Let man’s soul be a sphere, and then, in this, The intelligence that moves, devotion is. — John Donne
Busy old fool, unruly sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? — John Donne
There is a hook in every benefit that sticks in his jaws that takes the benefit, and draws him whither the benefactor will. — John Donne
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere,/ this bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere. — John Donne