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 DRYDENHe was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
More John Dryden Quotes
-
-
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 -
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 -
For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Hushed as midnight silence.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.
JOHN DRYDEN -
We can never be grieved for their miseries who are thoroughly wicked, and have thereby justly called their calamities on themselves.
JOHN DRYDEN -
A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
JOHN DRYDEN -
All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Trust on and think To-morrow will repay; To-morrow’s falser than the former day; Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Among our crimes oblivion may be set.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she’s at rest, and so am I.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Love works a different way in different minds, the fool it enlightens and the wise it blinds.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.
JOHN DRYDEN -
For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
JOHN DRYDEN