John Donne Quotes on Sadness
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As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.
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Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.
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The world's whole sap is sunk: The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interred; yet all these seem to laugh, Compared with me, who am their epitaph.