Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
ABRAHAM COWLEYDoes not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.
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Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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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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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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I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
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But what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
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Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou ‘rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain’d to die?
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Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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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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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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Ah, yet, e’er I descend to th’ grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true
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The world’s a scene of changes.
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A mighty pain to love it is, And ’tis a pain that pain to miss; But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.
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May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep’rate friends.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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Both wise, and both delightful too. And since Love ne’er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as Guardian angels are, Only belov’d and loving me.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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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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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY