John Dryden Quotes
…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.
Love works a different way in different minds, the fool it enlightens and the wise it blinds.
The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.
I'm a little wounded, but I am not slain; I will lay me down to bleed a while. Then I'll rise and fight again.
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.
Those who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
And that the Scriptures, though not everywhere Free from corruption, or entire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire In all things which our needful faith require.
He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow's falser than the former day.
With odorous oil thy head and hair are sleek; And then thou kemb'st the tuzzes on thy cheek: Of these, my barbers take a costly care.
Revealed religion first informed thy sight, and reason saw not till faith sprung to light.
None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give.
The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, Lives not to please himself, but other men; Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood, Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.
And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.
Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
