“Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.”
Explore This Quote Further
Analysis of John Donne's Quote
In this quote by John Donne, the poet explores the complex relationship between love and the physical body. The first part of the quote suggests that the mysteries of love reside within the depths of a person's soul. Love is not always easily understood and often contains elements that are intangible or inexplicable. However, the second part of the quote compares the body to a book where love is written, implying that though the essence of love may be mysterious and profound, its expression and manifestation can be found in the physical world. This juxtaposition highlights the interconnectedness of the spiritual and the physical aspects of love.
Exploring Love and the Self
John Donne's quote, “Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book,” speaks to the complexity of human emotion and relationships. This idea of love being deeply intertwined with both the soul and the physical body continues to hold relevance in modern times.
John Donne on Love and the Body
"“Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.” - John Donne"
Reflection Questions:
John Donne beautifully captures the complexity of love in his quote about the relationship between the soul and the body. Reflect on the following questions to deepen your understanding of this concept:
- How do you interpret the idea of love's mysteries growing in souls?
- In what ways can the body be seen as a book that reveals the depths of love?
- How do you personally experience the connection between your soul and body when it comes to love?
- Are there any specific experiences or relationships in your life that exemplify Donne's idea of love's mysteries in souls and bodies?
- How does this quote resonate with you and your beliefs about the nature of love?
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“Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to aery thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two ; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.”
“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,"So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love.Moving of the earth brings harms and fears, Men reckon what it did and meant;But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent.Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admitAbsence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.But we, by a love so much refined That our selves know not what it is,Inter-assured of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yetA breach, but an expansion. Like gold to airy thinness beat.If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two:Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do;And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam,It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home.Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like the other foot, obliquely run;Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.”
“A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said,Should vanish from her clothes into her bed,As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied.But now she's laid; what though she be?Yet there are more delays, for where is he?He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere.Let not this day, then, but this night be thine;Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.”
“But, O alas! so long, so far,Our bodies why do we forbear?”
“I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry;But where's that wiseman, that would not be I, If she would not deny?Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth set and sing my pain;And, by delighting many, frees again Grief, which verse did restrain.To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.Both are increased by such songs, For both their triumphs so are published,And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;Who are a little wise, the best fools be.”
“For this, Love is enraged with me; Yet kills not. If I must example beTo future rebels, if the unborn Must learn by my being cut up and torn,Kill and dissect me, Love; for thisTorture against thine own end is:Racked carcasses make ill anatomies”