Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
ABRAHAM COWLEYNothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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Coy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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Thus would I double my life’s fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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To-day is ours; what do we fear? To-day is ours; we have it here. Let’s treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay.
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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There is some help for all the defects of fortune; for, if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter.
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“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th’ approaches of the last.
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Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
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The world’s a scene of changes.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep’rate friends.
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The monster London laugh at me.
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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.
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And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
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It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
ABRAHAM COWLEY