Walter Raleigh Quotes
Our shipping and sea service is our best and safest defence as being the only fortification and rampart of England.
Silence in love betrays more woe - Than words though ne'er so witty; A beggar that is dumb, you know, may challenge double pity.
It would be an unspeakable advantage, both to the public and private, if men would consider that great truth, that no man is wise or safe but he that is honest.
Covetous ambition, thinking all too little which presently it hath, supposeth itself to stand in need of that which it hath not.
The House of Peers, throughout the war, Did nothing in particular, And did it very well: Yet Britain set the world ablaze In good King George's glorious days!
Who so taketh in hand to frame any state or government ought to presuppose that all men are evil, and at occasions will show themselves so to be.
Because all men are apt to flatter themselves, to entertain the addition of other men's praises is most perilous.
Death, which hateth and destroyeth a man, is believed; God, which hath made him and loves him, is always deferred.
The necessity of war, which among human actions is the most lawless, hath some kind of affinity with the necessity of law.
It were better for a man to be subject to any vice than to drunkenness; for all other vanities and sins are recovered, but a drunkard will never shake off the delight of beastliness.
Divine is Love and scorneth worldly pelf, And can be bought with nothing but with self.
The difference between a rich man and a poor man is this--the former eats when he pleases, and the latter when he can get it.
The gain of lying is nothing else but not to be trusted of any, nor to be believed when we say the truth.
What is our life? A play of passion. Our mirth the music of division. Our mother's wombs the tyring houses be, Where we are drest for this short Comedy.
Our souls, piercing through the impurity of flesh, behold the highest heaven, and thence bring knowledge to contemplate the ever-during, glory and termless joy.
Fain would I, but I dare not; I dare, and yet I may not; I may, although I care not, for pleasure when I play not.
Our bodies are but the anvils of pain and disease and our minds the hives of unnumbered cares.
In a letter to a friend the thought is often unimportant, and the feeling, if it be only a desire to entertain him, every thing.
A professional man of letters, especially if he is much at war with unscrupulous enenemies, is naturally jealous of his privacy... so it was, I think, with Dryden.
God’s justice in the one, and his goodness in the other, is exercised for evermore, as the everlasting subjects of his reward and punishment.
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu! Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
...Raleigh was later to write, after a duel the hangman was the one who bestowed the garland on the victor.