The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
ABRAHAM COWLEYFill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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Coy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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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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Why to mute fish should’st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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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 getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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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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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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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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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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But what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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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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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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The monster London laugh at me.
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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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There Daphne’s Lover stopped, and thought it much The very leaves of her to touch: But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp’d not so; Into the Bark and Root he after her did go!
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
ABRAHAM COWLEY