His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow, And short and long, were mixt and woven so, Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall, As made this decent measur’d dance of all. And this is Musick.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
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Nay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal; whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our 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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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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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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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
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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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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
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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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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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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
ABRAHAM COWLEY