Old as I am, for ladies’ love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
JOHN DRYDENMurder may pass unpunished for a time, But tardy justice will overtake the crime.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass’d; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go; To make a third, she join’d the former two.
JOHN DRYDEN -
To die for faction is a common evil, But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil.
JOHN DRYDEN -
None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.
JOHN DRYDEN -
While I am compassed round With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief, Whence, like the bird of night, with half-shut eyes, She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Desire of greatness is a godlike sin.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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.
JOHN DRYDEN -
There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
JOHN DRYDEN -
The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she’s at rest, and so am I.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Honor is but an empty bubble.
JOHN DRYDEN -
None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind: But every one is eagle-ey’d to see Another’s faults, and his deformity.
JOHN DRYDEN -
If all the world be worth thy winning. / Think, oh think it worth enjoying: / Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee, / Take the good the gods provide thee.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Those who write ill, and they who ne’er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
JOHN DRYDEN -
War is the trade of kings.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the’ appointed place we tend; The world’s an inn, and death the journey’s end.
JOHN DRYDEN -
When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.
JOHN DRYDEN -
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o’er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
JOHN DRYDEN -
Affability, mildness, tenderness, and a word which I would fain bring back to its original signification of virtue,–I mean good-nature,–are of daily use; they are the bread of mankind and staff of life.
JOHN DRYDEN -
For those whom God to ruin has design’d, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Few know the use of life before ’tis past.
JOHN DRYDEN -
They live too long who happiness outlive.
JOHN DRYDEN