“Donne loved the trans- prefix: it's scattered everywhere across his writing—'transpose', 'translate', 'transport', 'transubstantiate'. In this Latin preposition—'across, to the other side of, over, beyond'—he saw both the chaos and potential of us. We are, he believed, creatures born transformable. He knew of transformation into misery: 'But O, self-traitor, I do bring/The spider love, which transubstantiates all/And can convert manna to gall'— but also the transformation achieved by beautiful women: 'Us she informed, but transubstantiates you'.

And then there was the transformation of himself: from failure and penury, to recognition within his lifetime as one of the finest minds of his age; one whose work, if allowed under your skin, can offer joy so violent it kicks the metal out of your knees, and sorrow large enough to eat you. Because amid all Donne's reinventions, there was a constant running through his life and work: he remained steadfast in his belief that we, humans, are at once a catastrophe and a miracle.”