All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
JOHN DRYDENNone 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.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN -
The bravest men are subject most to chance.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
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 -
Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
JOHN DRYDEN -
We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Time glides with undiscover’d haste; The future but a length behind the past.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Good sense and good-nature are never separated, though the ignorant world has thought otherwise. Good-nature, by which I mean beneficence and candor, is the product of right reason.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the’ appointed place we tend; The world’s an inn, and death the journey’s end.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
JOHN DRYDEN -
For those whom God to ruin has design’d, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
JOHN DRYDEN






