Al R. Young Quotes

To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.

Take God from nature, nothing great is left.

Time elaborately thrown away.

We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!

The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.

I feel close to [Kanye West]. We're friends, this is not just a working relationship.

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? What tho' we wade in Wealth, or soar in Fame? Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies;' and 'Dust to dust' concludes the noblest songs.

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set; Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.

But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.

However smothered under former negligence, or scattered through the dull, dark mass of common thoughts - let thy genius rise as the sun from chaos.

Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.

Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.

The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It, makes us wander, wander earth around, To fly that tyrant Thought. As Atlas groan'd The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour.

Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.

In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.

They most the world enjoy who least admire.

Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled.

We push time from us, and we wish him back; * * * * * * Life we think long and short; death seek and shun.

I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees

It was [Kanye West] who spoke, and then we met and recorded some songs. After, you know what it is: we all bump like crazy.

O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.

Man wants but little, nor that little long; How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!

A strange alternative * * *Must women have a doctor or a dance?

Nothing but what astonishes is true.

A dedication is a wooden leg.

[The] public path of life Is dirty.

Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.

A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.

This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies, thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man? The smallest part of nothing.

Who gives an empire, by the gift defeats All end of giving; and procures contempt Instead of gratitude.

O let me be undone the common way, And have the common comfort to be pity'd, And not be ruin'd in the mask of bliss, And so be envy'd, and be wretched too!

Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing; pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds; they can tell.

Live now; be damn'd hereafter.

With fame, in just proportion, envy grows.

The spirit walks of every day deceased.

Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast.

Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself.

Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt.

One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.

Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.

A Deity believed, is joy begun; A Deity adored, is joy advanced; A Deity beloved, is joy matured. Each branch of piety delight inspires.

Who can take Death's portrait? The tyrant never sat.

Old men love novelties; the last arriv'd Still pleases best; the youngest steals their smiles.

The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.

Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.

There's always something that happens where I go, 'Oh, that was so awkward!'