A Quote by John Donne

Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. — © John Donne
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Honestly, I've never had anybody with 'Teen Mom' ever be anything but great to me. Except the editors - they suck. Everybody from the crew, I love them, they're like family to me... I've never had a problem with any of them. Except the editors.
Nothing can work damage to me except myself; the harm that I sustain I carry about with me and never am a real sufferer except by my own fault.
God, When I was alone, and had nothing, I asked for a friend to help me bear the pain, No one came, except God, When I needed a breath to rise, from my sleep, No one could help me.. except God, When all I saw was sadness, and I needed answers, No one heard me, except God, So when I'm asked.. who I give my unconditional love to? I look for no other name, except God
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun.... there are millions of suns left, You shall no longer take things at second or third hand.... nor look through the eyes of the dead.... nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.
I know being with me is not easy. But I want you to understand no one has me, or has ever had me, except you.
Comfort me by a solemn Assurance, that when the little Parlour in which I sit at this Instant, shall be reduced to a worse furnished Box, I shall be read, with Honour, by those who never knew nor saw me, and whom I shall neither know nor see.
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
I shall die here. Every last inch of me shall perish. Except one. An inch. It's small and it's fragile and it's the only thing in the world worth having. we must never lose it, or sell it, or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.
What can my enemies do to me? My paradise is in my heart, it is with me wherever I go. To imprison me is to provide me with seclusion. To send me into exile is to send me away in the Path of Allah. And to kill me is to make me a martyr.
No novelists any good except me. Sovietski -- yah! Nastikoff -- bah! I spit me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any good except me.
Nothing anybody's said or written about me ever bothers me, except when it does.
Who imprisoned me here? Who keeps me here? Who can release me? Who's controlling and constraining my life except...me?
Every writing teacher I ever had except for one told me I was an awful writer, had no idea what I was doing, and should stop immediately. It only took the one to tell me something different to light a fire under me.
I can negate everything of that part of me that lives on vague nostalgias, except this desire for unity, this longing to solve, this need for clarity and cohesion. I can refute everything in this world surrounding me that offends or enraptures me, except this chaos, this sovereign chance and this divine equivalence which springs from anarchy. I don't know whether this world has meaning that transcends it. But I know that I do not know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it. What can a meaning outside my condition mean to me? I can understand only in human terms.
My "me" is God nor do I recognize any other "me" except my God himself.
My parents never pressured me except to advise me against acting.
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