Satire among the Romans, but not among the Greeks, was a bitter invective poem.
JOHN DRYDENIf you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
More John Dryden Quotes
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There is a proud modesty in merit.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Mighty things from small beginnings grow.
JOHN DRYDEN -
A woman’s counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart’s ease he liv’d; and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.
JOHN DRYDEN -
When we view elevated ideas of Nature, the result of that view is admiration, which is always the cause of pleasure.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Griefs assured are felt before they come.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
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 -
Love and Time with reverence use, Treat them like a parting friend: Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before.
JOHN DRYDEN -
But Shakespeare’s magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.
JOHN DRYDEN -
They first condemn that first advised the ill.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Those who write ill, and they who ne’er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
JOHN DRYDEN