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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.

John Dryden

Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
JOHN DRYDEN

Ourselves Photograph Thinking Word
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

Finding Himself Imperfection Mistake Secret
Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.
JOHN DRYDEN

Complain Leisure Light Suffering
Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
JOHN DRYDEN

Alone Day Happiness Live Man Myself Secure Worst
Treason is greatest where trust is greatest.
JOHN DRYDEN

Greatness Treason Trust
They live too long who happiness outlive.
JOHN DRYDEN

Happiness Live
For they can conquer who believe they can.
JOHN DRYDEN

Believe Conquer
Desire of greatness is a godlike sin.
JOHN DRYDEN

Desire God Greatness Sin
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.
JOHN DRYDEN

Affection Goodness Grace Principal
Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.
JOHN DRYDEN

Creation Earth Eyes Man Mom Sky Soft
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
Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
JOHN DRYDEN

Degree River Sea
None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give.
JOHN DRYDEN

Hope Life Live Pleasure Run Thinking
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate’s: Souls know no conquerors.
JOHN DRYDEN

Empty Enough Fortune Myself Soul
The winds are out of breath.
JOHN DRYDEN

Breathe Wind
By education most have been misled; So they believe, because they were bred. The priest continues where the nurse began, And thus the child imposes on the man.
JOHN DRYDEN

Believe Children Direction Education Lost Man

Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.

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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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