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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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

Eyes Feeling Ourselves Soul Tender Togetherness Touch
Forgiveness to the injured does belong; but they ne’er pardon who have done wrong.
JOHN DRYDEN

Forgiveness Injury Wrong
But love’s a malady without a cure.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cure Love
Beware the fury of a patient man.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fury Man Patience
Nor is the people’s judgment always true: the most may err as grossly as the few.
JOHN DRYDEN

Judgment People True
Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
JOHN DRYDEN

Children Crave Growth Man
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

Life Man Origin Virtue Word
The conscience of a people is their power.
JOHN DRYDEN

Conscience People Power
Merit challenges envy.
JOHN DRYDEN

Advantage Jealous One Liner
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brave Despair Happiness
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
JOHN DRYDEN

Lost Mild Rage Sea Wind
He look’d in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
JOHN DRYDEN

Green Himself Youth
Satire is a kind of poetry in which human vices are reprehended.
JOHN DRYDEN

Human Kind Poetry Satire Vice
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN

Numerous Talk Thinking
And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.
JOHN DRYDEN

Plate Time Writing
Parting is worse than death; it is death of love!
JOHN DRYDEN

Death Love Part Worst

And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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