Quote
"Study me, then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchemy.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin’d me, and I am re-begot
Of absense, darnesse, death; things which are not."
John Donne, ‘A Nocturnall Upon S. Lucies Day, Being the Shortest Day’
